The Lyrics To Love
by Orokid
Summary: The road to true love is never easy, no matter how much you wish it was.  At least, that's what Santana is finding after having been turned down by the one person she's ever opened up to.  With more than just their hearts to gamble, can love truly win?
1. Decisions

_Orokid: I started writing this the day after "Sexy". I had the scene where Brittany, Santana and Holly Holiday all sing "Landslide" stuck in my head, and I found a video that day or the day after that had a majority of Santana's "I love you" speech. During my break at work (since I seem to be there non-stop), I found my notebook in my bag and started writing... which led to the birth of this, the first thing I've written in two months. I will warn you now that it hasn't been looked over other than when I was typing it out, and most of the spelling mistakes have been fixed. Grammar... Well, I'm sure there's a bunch in there, and I'm sorry about them, but, with my schedule, it's hard to find someone to read and correct it. Then again, it's not like I ever did it beforehand either. Ah well. Once again, sorry for the errors.  
_

_Anyway... I finished watching Original Songs, and was sad to see that Santana didn't react the way I thought she would have... but, at the same time, she did. Every and their dog knew that angry San was going to come, but I still thought there would be a hint of remorse, as well as a hint that she loved Brittany, but... *Sigh* Maybe next episode. I realize that there wasn't all that much time in the ep for it to happen, plus San will likely be angry for a while. It's in her nature after all_. ^^ _And she's hot doing it too. My hopes continue on! At the very least, there's fanfiction for me to write my hopes upon._

_On an unrelated side note... Am I the only one who noticed the correlation between Santana's mood and her favorite song (Alanis Morrisette's "You Oughta Know")? Hmm...  
_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing of Glee. I would ADORE to be on the writing staff for it, and Brittana would already be together by this point, but ce la vie. In the end, I still own nothing except my dreams... and I'm sure many others share that with me._

_CHAPTER ONE_

_Decisions__  
_

It had been days since the one moment in Santana's short life that she wanted nothing more than to forget, a moment when she had bared her broken but loving soul to the one person she cared about the most in the world… and had it gently declined. For days, she had cried when no one else was looking, thrown and hit things when no one was around, and simply watched from a painful distance the one person she could never truly have. Her heart had been shattered, and the feigned confidence that had once gotten her through the days was lost from her. She was dying without a wound, Cupid's ill advised arrow the weapon in her murder. All in all, it was unfair.

And yet, if she thought about it, everything that had happened- from the moment her love had gone elsewhere for the affection she craved to what had occurred those days ago- had been her doing and her's alone. After all, wasn't she the one who had pushed her lover away for fear of realizing just what it really was that she had felt? If only she could turn back time and return herself to that moment, to happily agree to do the duet with her and to keep herself from ever saying those dreaded words to the one she adored. _"I'm not making out with you 'cause I'm in love with you." _The minute they had left her lips back then, she had felt her chest burn in agony, knowing that she had lied to the innocent girl, knowing the truth far too well. If she had just agreed instead of allowing her stupid, scared pride get in the way… then she would have been holding the one she cared for rather than cradling her broken heart.

Closing her locker door, the wounded Latina found herself gazing into the bright blue eyes of a boy who deserved better, deserved to know the truth behind her hurt gaze. It was unfair to him, considering the fact that he had really done nothing wrong, and yet recently she had ignored her phone at all costs for fear of breaking down to whomever it was on the line, ignored his advances and silly behavior that had once put her in a better mood just because he somehow reminded her of the one who truly held tight to her affections… She could offer him no good reason for her actions, at least not one that wouldn't hurt his pride for eternity, and the fact that just looking at him or watching whatever action that would interest her ever so slightly reminded her of the things she couldn't have… She just couldn't take it, couldn't take him, and a part of her couldn't help but feel horrible that she was keeping him from being with someone could could actually appreciate him and his insane logic that was based upon a movie filled with those blue skinned freaks. Whatever they were. All in all, what their relationship had really been based upon were revenge on Quinn for taking the cheer captain title from her, and also on the fear that she would be alone, lost, confused and unloved. Back during the Warblers' performance on Valentine's Day, it had been something Kurt's boy thing had sung in her direction that had cemented it in her mind the fact that she would very likely end up solitary for the rest of her days. _"Sometimes it doesn't come at all."_ Even now, she could recall those words, as well as the apologetic gaze the boy wore, and while she knew that it was simply part of the song and that she was just in the location he had gone to for that part, it still bothered her. So, in the moment when someone came to her for company, she simply took it greedily, uncaring about even her own feelings as she simply reached out for something, anything, to hold onto.

"What?" Her tone was sharp- the usual tone she seemed to bare toward almost everyone… except her…

"You've been avoiding me." She couldn't help scoffing at him, her frustration getting the better of her despite her best efforts to keep it all under wraps. With a roll of her eyes, she turned away from him, walking the opposite way. To her displeasure, she could hear him as he followed, his steps loud and uncouth, the exact opposite of the one she adored who walked gently and carefree. "Will you just _**talk**_ to me about it? I _**am**_ your boyfriend, aren't I?" She pursed her lips, hateful of the word he had just spoken, the taste of disgust and bitterness causing her mouth to feel close to opening herself up to let loose her anger on the boy who knew and understood nothing. "Did something happen between you and Brittany?"

Before she could stop herself, she had whipped herself around, glaring at him with an animosity quite unlike her usual stare filled with an anger and hatred that she couldn't help but have, probably something like Hilter would have had for the Jewish… or something like that. He had said _her_ name, the one thing that seemed to put the Latina on an edge that anyone would be fearful to fall off of. "First off, big mouth." Her tone was curt and loud, and she could hear the hustle and bustle of the school hallway grow silent. She knew that people were watching- it had been something she had often used to her advantage over the years of intimidating others. Today though, all she really wanted was for people to keep walking, to let her say her piece to him and leave her the Hell alone. How ironic it was that the one thing she had feared the most was what she wanted most of all right now. "I've had it. With you. With the voices, the quotes the Smurfs-"

"Avatars."

"Whatever." The fact that he had dared to correct her seemed to make her all the madder, but she held herself back from slapping or hurting him like she really wanted to right then. Clenching her fingers tightly into fists, she simply fortified her stature, straightening and strengthening her legs so that she would be ready to either fight or run if she really needed to. "If you really think that being my 'boyfriend'," she raised her hands, giving air quotes to the word she so despised, "means anything more than being my fuck buddy, then maybe you need to find someone who actually gives a rat's ass about you- cause that sure as Hell ain't me." With firm arms, she point him down a hallway that was going a different direction that she wanted to go. "So take this… whatever the Hell it is, or you think it is… shove it up your ass and get out of my sight." Turning again, she was on her way once more, anger fuming as she harshly pushed her way through the throngs of still onlookers. "What the Hell are you looking at?" As she weeded through the faceless nobodies that insisted to stay in her way, she soon found herself gazing straight at the one person who put her in her emotional state. It took her mere seconds to recognize the confusion, the understanding, the apologies, the sadness that were in the other girl's eyes, watching her as they silently stood feet away from one another. She had to have witnessed the blow up… She had to be blaming herself right about now.

Finally, as she felt the sting of renewed tears, the Latina quietly averted her gaze, hands moving to tightly grip the straps of her backpack. With rushed steps, she tried to quickly move past the girl that caused her chest to burn and tighten like it did. Almost home free, she felt the sweet and sour sensation of a familiar hand upon her arm, forcing her to stop when that was the last thing she wanted to do. With a grimace, she looked up to stare into the beautiful eyes that seemed to only bore though her, and she could feel a lone, sad tear escape the stronghold she had been trying her hardest to keep up so that her peers wouldn't know just how weak the school bitch really was. "San, I-"

"What do you want from me, Brittany?" Her voice was soft, broken- very unlike the person she pretended to be. The young woman's tone was gentle, yet it spoke far more of the pain she felt within her heart than she would have preferred it to. "You made your choice, didn't you?" Her words were bitier than before, yet they held no real malice for the person whom she spoke to.

"I didn't yet. I-" The Latina tore her arm from the blond's grip, and she could only liken the feeling to cutting off your own limb. She could still feel the warmth on where the girl had touched her, but she could feel the coldness of reality setting in- and her heart could only mourn the touch she wasn't sure she'd ever feel again.

Swallowing hard, the dark haired girl could only cross her arms, hopeful to protect her heart with what she could. She could feel it breaking again as she tore her chocolate eyes from the beauty who cursed her mind with memories of things, places, she'd never see or feel as long as the vile distance remained between them. "I know." Lowering her head further, curling into herself as much as she could while still standing, Santana felt another tear break free from the prisons that were her tear ducts. "I know," she whispered, sounding nothing short of defeated. Inhaling deeply, she offered the other girl, a small nod, almost as if she had once more repeated herself. Biting on the inside of her cheek, she knew that she was close to breaking, close to letting loose the words and feelings that she had within.

But it was the squeak of an oncoming wheelchair that brought her back to her senses, reminded her that there was no way for her to show the other girl how she truly felt right now. Clenching her hand tightly into a fist, the frustration immediately dissipated into sadness, and her fingers released themselves gently. Clearing her throat, she lowered her head, unable to meet the girl's eyes. "I… I gotta go." She wasn't ever sure if she knew where she had to go, let alone if she would even be going to class after everything that had just happened, but she knew that it was better, safer, for everyone for her to get out of there.

She could feel the blond's eyes upon her as she walked away, pained and unsure, caught in between love and honesty.

Artie wheeled himself over to his beautiful girlfriend, his be speckled eyes unnoticing of the far away gaze she was giving an emptying hallway. His mood was light and cheerful, and a smile was etched onto his features with a carefree ease that he only felt while around the young woman. "Hey, Brittany." He gave a wave, although it was lost upon the girl, her eyes still glued upon the hall as if she was hoping for something, anything, to happen.

"Hey." Her tone was barren, devoid of the usual emotions that bubbled within her voice, and the wheelchair-bound boy seemed to know automatically that something was bothering the girl. In moments, he took notice of the things he hadn't before, from the lost puppy dog gaze to the small tears she seemed to be holding back. A part of him couldn't help but wonder if she even realized that she was withholding them from their peers, or if she had simply done it instinctively, knowing that someone would take notice and ask the usually cheerful girl what was wrong.

"Brittany?" Artie's voice was kind and concerned, and the unasked question hung in the air between them.

The blond turned her eyes toward the young man, and his curiosity and concern simply doubled as he looked into her confusion and pain, wanting to know what was going on in her mind. He watched as she slowly lifted her arm, placing her hand upon her chest where her heart would be, and, for some unknown reason, he could feel his anxiety build as he watched her. "Am I… a good person?"

The question itself caught him off guard, and he couldn't help but wonder where it had come from. Turning his gaze upon the emptying hall, he tried to realize if something had transpired before he had appeared. Looking the opposite way, he caught sight of a dumbfounded yet angry Sam kicking the closest locker to him. Putting two and two together, he could only be left with a singular conclusion- Santana had passed through. The young man's eyebrows knitted together, thinking back to the last week, from the time his girlfriend had sung that song with her best friend till this exact moment. Before, he could rarely remember a moment when he hadn't seen the girls with their pinkies locked together, whispering secrets into each other's ears, the closest of friends he had ever seen. True, he knew that there had been times when the line had been crossed, and the friends did things that only lovers should, but that was all in the past, and the two of them weren't like that anymore with one another. But lately… A man would have had to be blind not to see the split. No longer did they lock their pinkies and whisper secrets. No longer were they together at almost every moment of each and every day. At first, he had accepted it greedily, happy to finally have some time with his girlfriend without her best friend in tow, whether it was in real life or through their phones. Yet he grew worried, quietly so, as the days went on, and he couldn't help the nagging feeling like he was losing her. The vacant looks, the distant stares, the unexplainable fatigue… It all because more and more apparent that the friends had separated on not so great terms.

Still, the only thing he could do was be supportive of her until both she and the school's wicked witch of McKinley High's student body made up. "Baby, of course you are." Ge cracked a loving smile, reaching up from the metal arm rests so to touch her hand. "You're the best." The young man's smile soon faltered, watching as the normally cheerful girl made a face, seemingly unhappy with his words no matter how supportive he may have sounded. His hand soon feel back to his lap, averting his eyes as he tried his hardest to think of something that would soon put a grin back onto the beautiful girl's lips… but nothing seemed to come to mind. Chewing on the inside of his bottom lip, he knew what had to be done. "Something happened, didn't it? Between you and Santana, right?" His questions were more like statements, knowing the answers far too well. Brittany's head fell ever so slightly, but her eyes met the floor, unable to look him in the eyes if she attempted to lie. She made no move to answer him, probably trying to think of something to say, or trying not to think about everything that had obviously gone on between the two of them. Inhaling, knowing that he was probably going to get himself knee deep in something he shouldn't, he offered her another gentle, loving smile and asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

The blond opened her mouth, rising her blue eyes to look at his face, searching for the will to tell him everything- but he watched as it closed, keeping him from whatever it was that was bothering her. Once more, her eyes fell to her feet, ashamed and sad, and the hand that had been over her heart moved to cross before her, holding her arm as she tried to look anywhere other than at him. "I… can't."

"Why?" He sounded a little incredulous, having always had the chance for open conversations with the girl before him. Whether it had been about their feelings or if the tooth fairy truly existed, she had always come to him, and they had talked it all out. But here she was, telling him that this was something that he couldn't know.

"It's complicated." Complicated was never one word he had ever thought would leave her mouth, having no idea that she even knew the word let alone the fact that he had known her to be a very uncomplicated girl. His eyebrows furrowed once again, curious and afraid about what this meant for him. Usually, she kept things from him on one occasion only- if it would hurt him. "It's just… something between us." Had they gotten into a fight over him? And, if so, what was it ever about? Her body turned to face him completely, yet her eyes remained on the ground. "Artie, I… I think I'm a bad person." Biting her bottom lip visibly, he knew now that she was definitely holding herself back from the tears that threatened to fall. The wheelchair-bound teenager watched her, helpless and confused, fearful and hurt. "I have to go. I… I'll see you at glee club, alright?"

With that, it was his turn to watch her walk away from him, only to disappear as she turned down another hall. Was he really losing her?

Santana stood silently on the empty stage in the theater, letting the tears fall as she valiantly tried and failed to keep him from doing so. She couldn't remember when she had gotten there, or even how long she had been standing center stage, but she was thankful for the empty audience. At least no one would be there to see her break down. Her hands were on her chest, hoping to quell the burn of her heartache which continued within her relentlessly. Inhaling deeply, quickly taking in as much air as she could, she exhaled and did the same a few times more until her tears had somehow subsided. _'So this is how it's gonna be…'_ The young woman gave a short laugh, irony and anger in it's tone as she used one of her palms to wipe away the rivers of woe that continued to stream down her cheeks. _'Every time he's around, I'm going to run and cry. Great.'_ Another shot of laughter filled with frustration and bitterness left her lips, and her arms moved to wrap tightly around her own waist. "I'm… so pathetic."

"I can't quite agree with you."

The Latina whipped her head around, looking for the source of the voice, terrified that someone had seen her after she had tried so hard to keep her heartache hidden away. Her features stiffened, hopeful to hide her aches and pains with the sudden tenseness of all her muscles. It wasn't long until she found herself staring straight into the soft, knowing eyes of the very hairy pianist for the club, the guy no one really ever spoke to unless it was to direct the way he was playing during the performances, and that was mostly just Berry. All in all, she didn't know him very well, nor did she really want to make his acquaintance either unless during the club hours for the job he had and that alone. Plus, old hairy men always gave her the creeps. Her hands balled into fists once more, although she knew that it was very unlikely that the man would do anything that would require the need of violence.

Slowly, the bearded man climbed the stairs, stopping with one foot on the main stage and his other on the step below. He grinned toward her, sliding his hands into his pickets, just simply watching her. Finally, after had had seemed like a stand off that lasted eons, he spoke, his voice kind and cheerful… yet with a hint of a sadness that no one could truly deny. "You know… you sang beautifully last week, Miss Lopez." The older gentleman took the last step up, very slowly making his way toward the defensive girl. "Singing from the heart… It always sounds best." The man stopped, facing her with a simple knowing grin upon his face, feet away from the young woman.

"What do you want, Tinkles?" Her voice was sharp, shaper than it usually was due to the fact she had been caught off guard by him in a moment of weakness.

He silently shrugged in response, deciding to move once more- although, she noted, it wasn't toward her. Turning her head, she realized that the baby grand piano was sitting in the corner of the stage, looking as if it were raring to go for another round of musical chairs or whatever. Really, she had no idea what the theater club did here since they never really had any performances. "I usually come here to play, is all." The girl turned toward him again, her body still firm, knowing that she would have to get out of there soon. The faster she did, the easier it was to pretend as though she hadn't been there to begin with, and easier to believe as though no one knew her heart. Without a word, she turned back around, preparing herself to leave- when his voice caught her by surprise. "Care to join me?"

The dark haired girl look to him, surprise and annoyance on her features as she glared at him dead in his eyes. "What? Play piano? No. That's not me."

"No, no." Tinkles chuckled as he sat himself down upon the padded bench, opening the flap that would give him complete access to his instrument of choice. Stretching his fingers, he gazed down at the black and white keys, a sad smile coming to his lips as memories found his eyes. "Sing." Graceful fingers moved to play, and a slow, sorrowful melody came to the girl's ears, tantalizing and woeful.

Santana stared at him for a moment, feeling the pieces of her broken heart beating from the inside of her stomach, the ache reminding her of each one of the lyrics to the song he chose to play. Turning to gaze at the empty audience, she let the words comes to her, closing her eyes as memories began to take hold of her.

"_**Turn down the lights, turn down the bed**_

_**Turn down these voices inside my head"**_

The young woman was caught in the world of yesterday, playing the last week over and over in her mind like a skipping DVD. If she had the strength to find her way to school after a night of mourning what never was, she was end up returning to her lonely home, exhausted by the mask she wore to hide her hurt. She'd collapse into the comfort of her bed, only to find and swallow a bitter taste of regret as she stared at the pillow where her former lover would lay her head upon during their 'sleepovers'. She would lay there, and tears would form and fall, her mind and heart telling her time and time again that she had been too slow, too stupid. If she had just agreed… If she had done this or that… How many times now had she thought those things in the excruciating stillness of the night? She didn't know, but, by the ache in her chest, she knew that it had to be close to countless.

"_**Lay down with me, tell me no lies**_

_**Just hold me close, don't patronize, don't patronize"**_

Santana's hands clutched at her chest, almost as if she were forcibly holding in the emotions that she'd been trying to hide for so long. A part of her longed for just one more night, one more chance to prove herself and her affections to the one she adored so completely. It didn't matter to her anymore if they just had sex, or if they would just remain silent and alone, cuddling like those times she would never admit to loving. All that mattered to her was if she would be finally able to let out the love she'd been keeping inside, even if… even if…

… Even if the one she wanted couldn't return her affections.

"_**Cause I can't make you love me if you don't"**_

"_Of course, I love you. I do."_

"_**You can't make your heart feel something it won't"**_

"_And I would totally be with you if it weren't for Artie."_

"_**Here in the dark, in these final hours**_

_**I will lay down my heart, and I feel the power**_

_**But you won't, no you won't**_

_**Cause I can't make you love me if you don't"**_

The Latina opened her dark eyes, somehow finding the only blue orbs she didn't wish to look into as she stood there on the stage, heart once more on display just as it had been before. She gave a small inaudible laugh as irony hit her, wondering just why her imagination had cooked this up for her. Maybe, she mused herself, this was the closest she could get to actually saying something to the girl she loved. She kept her saddened, glistening chocolate eyes upon her figment, heart aching and breaking as she continued to sing.

"_**I'll close my eyes, pretend I don't see**_

_**The love you don't feel when you're holding me"**_

She could recall with ease and pain every moment she felt like dying, simply standing in the presence of the couple that could have been a knife or machete, hacking her down to size. They always seemed to be smiling, laughing, enjoying in one another what those in a tolerated relationship could do. Every part of her felt jealous and alone, and seeing them together was like putting salt and lemon in the wound. After all, even if something could happen between them, she could never outwardly give the blond she yearned for the affection she wanted. At least, not here in Lima, Ohio where bigots seemed to go to make a home and family for themselves. Kurt was a boy and he was harassed up and down the campus just for being true to who he was. Being a girl, being as open… Those were things that she knew would never end well. She had heard through the grapevine how guys 'straightened out' the girls who wanted womanly charm over disgusting masculine body odor, and she wasn't stupid enough to put Brittany- beautiful, loving, graceful Brittany- in a position like that.

Which was why, as painful as it was, the dark haired girl knew se had to let the woman she loved go- for her ex-lover's sake, and not her own.

"_**Morning will come, and I'll do what right**_

_**Just give me till then to give up this fight**_

_**And I'll give up this fight"**_

Santana was close to breaking again, but her sight never wavered from her beautiful imagination, afraid that the girl would evaporate and she would be left alone and unloved again. She knew that her thoughts, her feelings, her need, her longing, would eventually have to get pushed away, but, right now, even if it was to an unreal version of the object of her adoration, she wanted to let out the last of everything that was left. The anger, the anguish… Everything. And she wanted her former lover to know it all. … but she settled for what she could, which was singing to the woman who was nothing more than a simple mirage in her hazy heartbreak.

"_**Cause I can't make you love me if you don't**_

_**You can't make your heart feel something it won't**_

_**Here in the dark in these final hours**_

_**I will lay down my heart, and I feel the power**_

_**But you won't, no you won't"**_

Slowly, the young woman's hands finally fell to her sides, holding her chin up despite the flow of tears that had begun to fall down her already salty cheeks. She couldn't stop them anymore, and a part of her didn't want to, letting bleed the gashes formed by the devil of love. She watched as her blond figment covered her mouth, tears shining the way they usually did, and the Latina could only grimace as her fingertips ached to wipe away the girl's sadness. If only she could ease Brittany's pain, even ease her own, but she knew that both were impossible.

Closing her eyes, she allowed the final tears that she was going to allow herself to cry fall, her heart in shambles but her mind made up.

"_**But I can't make you love me if you don't."**_

As she opened her chocolate colored orbs, she gazed where she had been, only to see an empty space where her past lover had been moments before. Breathing in deeply, she gave a sigh, defeated.

Little did she know that there were other blue eyes upon her.

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

_Orokid: So what did you think? I wrote it in pieces really, considering the fact that I only had between shifts to write it all out (and I still finished it on the computer just an hour ago), but I think it bleeds well together. At least, I hope it does. Personally, I feel like Glee should sing the older songs, like "Landslide", because there's a lot of emotions that I think a lot of today's music doesn't have. That is just my opinion, and you're welcome to have your own. It's just how I feel when listening to the newly released ones lately. That aside... I hope you liked. This is the longest fic I've written in a VERY long time, and I'm proud of myself for that, at the very least. Whatever your thoughts are, please tell me! Thanks for reading, and I hope to see your reviews soon._


	2. Knowing Is Half The Battle

_**Orokid**: Okay... I've been really and truly lazy for the past... however long its been. I had most of this written out since before last weekend and I was just a little too lazy to either finish or semi (kinda/not really/ish) proof-read, like I do everything I post up here. I guess if I had to blame something, it could be the fact that I have been drawing something- an incident that hasn't happened for a while, so I've been somewhat relishing in it. That, and some of the things I've been drawing has been Glee related. I'm a complete and total GleeK now, thank you! Still, no matter what couples I have come to like more than others, Brittana/Santittany has and will always be my number one OTP. After all, Santana is my favorite character, Brittany not too far behind, so that just puts the couple into the unique title of "pure epic-ness"._ X3

_That said, I'm also dying on the vine without my weekly Glee fix. My mother has been calling me a drug addict, and the drug I'm on just happens to be called Charlie She- wait... Nope, wrong prescription. Here we go... - called Glee. I need the next episode to come out stat, and I hope and pray that Bartie ends this one- but I've been hoping for it for since Sexy, so it's probably going to be an ongoing prayer for the rest of the season till the writers finally build up whats left of Santana and Brittany's depression/sexual tension and let it explode into the goodness of Brittana/Santittany._

_**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything that has to do with Glee. I really want to be on the writing staff asap though, so if anyone reading has some pull... *Ahem* So yeah, I own nothing right now._

**CHAPTER TWO**

_Knowing Is Half The Battle_**  
**

The day had come to an end much faster than she would have preferred, knowing all too well what the final school bell meant. Each time the loud shrill of the alarm went off, the Latina found herself dreading more and more for what she knew was coming. As much as she sat through her hideously long classes and dated on whether or not she should actually show her face, she knew that there was only so long she could ditch what was once her most favorite part of her day- Glee. Going to Glee meant seeing the one thing she had been desperate to avoid, as well as seeing guppy mouth after the scene she had created earlier that day, so it really wasn't on her high list of things to do. But… she knew that there had to be a day where she had to get over her heartbreak and move on from it, and she had made that promise to herself earlier that this would be the end of it, of the tears and the love that did nothing but hurt her.

As much as she hated the idea of facing her demons, something Santana Lopez just never did no matter what the situation might be, today was the day that she would face them with her chin held up high. Whether her heart was in shambles or not, her mask would be set back into place, and she would once more be the girl everyone thought her to be, the one which everyone knew and tolerated.

Heaving a heavy sigh, the Latina kept her eyes toward the ground, tracing each step she made with her eyes so that she wouldn't have to see wheels even being friendly to the girl that held her heart. The lyrics of the song she had sung not that long ago returned to her thoughts, a bitterly sweet reminder to her decisions, but the melody itself repeated in her mind until she found herself humming it. The dull thud in her chest felt oddly better, lighter than the shards of her broken heart had been at the very least, and a part of her hoped that it meant that she was starting to get over it all. He needed to move on with her life.

Almost to the choir room where her dreams and nightmares would begin, she felt a hand- large and calloused- take hold of her wrist, forcing her to stop and look up into the bright blue eyes of a man who meant nothing more to her than any one night stand she'd ever had. In seconds, she felt the irritable mask click right into place, a familiar feeling taking hold of her as the old version of her began to come to the surface for the first time in a while. Lips pursed and eyes blazing, she moved to rip her arm from the one who had caught her off guard. "What do you want, Forrest Gupp."

"Who is he?" His voice was low and angry, but his baby blues only spoke of the same pain of rejection as when he learned the truth between Finnocence and Barbie's 'life-saving' kiss. Still, the dark haired girl's features didn't change, her flaming eyes continuing to burn as she tried to figure out just what he was even angry about, let alone what nonsense he was spouting. As silence grew between them, she watched as the blond haired fool grow more and more desperate, the frustration slowing deteriorating as disappointment began to cloud him. "Just… who?" Her walls fell only slightly, regret in her heart as she remembered that Sam was more or less in the same position she was. "I just… I wanna know, rather than find out like-"

"I'm not Quinn." Her words held no malice or sadness, but her heart remained hidden within her, knowing all too well what would happen if she had it on her sleeve. She'd already done that once this month, and she found it bleeding and broken without anyone to help her pick up the pieces. Still, she knew she wasn't answering him the way a part of her had wanted to, wishing more than ever that she could go back to being the old her rather than this weepy, touchy-feely version. This one was starting to annoy the Hell out of her more than ever before. "And I don't know what the Hell you're talking about." Turning away from the male, she moved to take a step back in the direction of the room where Glee was being help, only to stop the moment her foot had hit the ground.

"I heard the song."

In milliseconds, the mask she had prided herself upon had slipped more than it had ever before while in the presence of someone whose name didn't rhyme with it-knee. Fear and panic struck her like lightning, wondering just who else knew, who else had seen behind her barriers, who knew just who it was she truly and completely loved with her every being. Pushing it hard under the surface as quickly as she could, praying that he hadn't seen the cracks, she looked at him with both confusion and vengeance. One way or another, she was going to get out of this predicament. It wasn't long before she was silently cursing herself for actually letting loose in such a public place as the auditorium, where people could walk in freely if they desired to. "So what? It's just a song, fish-lips."

His gaze became more determined, knowing that something was definitely going on, but he was more than lost on what exactly was happening. He looked back into his memory of the moments he had walked into the auditorium, searching for a reason, for an explanation to why the woman had ended it the way she had. But he had seen her at what he was sure was her weakest moment, singing unlike she'd ever done before, tears falling down her face for the first time since he'd known her. True, there had been that time when he had watched her sing with Artie's girl, but the quiver in her voice, the shake in her stature… Those were things he had never known the seemingly strong, proud woman do, no matter what the circumstances might be. "It's not just a song." His words were sharper than he'd meant them to be, but he was standing there, fighting, flailing, hoping for something, anything, from her. "I saw you, Santana. I saw you- the _**real**_you, not this bull you put up to have everyone at odds against you."

Realization and fear dawned upon her, and she was positive that he could see how he had both touched a nerve and something that she wanted to keep under wraps more than anything. But soon, her fear kicked in her survival instincts, and she could only do one of two things as she faced the man who had come to know her far too well- fight or flight. The latter was normally reserved for a certain person, the only one who she could never harm no matter how much she might've wanted to at times as her depression got the better of her, so that left her with one choice.

Grabbing a tight hold of the bleached blond's shirt, she threw him as hard as she could against the nearest lockers. Even if he was taller, even if he did weigh at least fifty pounds more than she did, she had his loyalty and his gentlemanly attitude to count upon. There was no retaliation, just a look of frustration and confusion burning bright in his baby blues, and she simply kept him locked in place, unable to escape her or her undeniable wrath. "You don't know me, got it? Not you, not Brittany-"

"What does Brittany even have to do with this?" Sam's voice was loud, echoing through the empty hallway, his anger uncapped as he pushed her lightly off of him. His eyes watched her firmly, seething, and their forms tightened almost as if they were about to launch themselves at one another to start of World War III. Still, both knew that neither would likely attempt to start anything more than this argument. He couldn't hit a girl if his life depended upon it, and she was positive that there were too many things she had a disadvantage in this time around.

Gritting her perfect teeth as she thought once more of her actions, she was distracted by soft whispers coming from the direction of her prior destination. Both the Latina and the football player turn their heads, frowns evident, looking into the many eyes staring out from the choir room. Immediately, the flames of her anger flared once more, her hands balling into tight fists as she looked into each person's widening eyes. She could see the fear registering in each of them, a suitable reaction considering what she wanted to do to them for butting in. Feet marching over to the group, she walked as they looked quickly toward one another before deciding once and for all what the best option was- run. Picking up speed as she watched them go, she raised a fist, stopping almost right next to the music room in which they had run from. "Yeah, you better run!" Grumbling to herself, she turned, ready to make her way back to the fool that had still been standing there, probably hopeful that he'd somehow get answers she couldn't, wouldn't, give him. To her, his best option was to join the others.

But as her almond eyes moved past the contents of the room, the Latina stopped dead in her tracks, heart throbbing mournfully as she silently watched the still, quiet form of the young woman who meant everything to her. The girl's eyes were focused on a speck on the floor, her arms between her legs as she tried to hold back the tears that had formed in her eyes. In seconds, Santana's fury had calmed, the tan skinned girl feeling almost like she had been hit square in the stomach instead. She could only feel ashamed as she stood there, having been throwing herself around and screaming like a spoiled brat. Her hands slowly moved to where her heart would be, holding it tenderly as she felt the cracks begin to form again, knowing all to well that the blond was blaming herself for the way things were.

A hand settled onto Santana's shoulder, and her pitbull-like instincts kicked in once again, turning to the blue eyes that belonged to the boy that wasn't the one she wanted. Her anger flared, although not as brightly as before, having turned to embers the moment that she had seen the other girl. Shrugging off his touch, disgust and pain in her brown orbs, she simply gave him a glare that probably could have make things combust if possible. A part of her only wished that he would so that he'd just leave her- no, them- alone. She was almost relieved to watch the boy back off, giving her the space she obviously needed.

With careful steps, ignoring as Mister Shuester left the room to go in search of the others that seemed to still be running for their lives, she made her way toward the blond who sat completely still in her chair. She knew that the girl knew she was there, knew that it was her who had sat down beside her, knowing all too well the scent of her perfume and the feel of the heat that radiated from her. They knew things about one another that only lovers should, and the Latina loved her as deeply as the fathoms of space and then some. Even if she had never said the words, there had always been an understanding in the girl's innocent eyes that told her all the things she wanted and more, things the dark haired beauty wasn't quite ready to accept yet- but every word and feeling she'd ever been afraid of was now caught in her throat. She wanted to tell her again, to beg her to reconsider the choice she had made, but she didn't. She couldn't. Not after she had sworn to herself to let the woman go once and for all and return to her old life of playing with the heart of men.

A sigh on her lips, she reached over and set her hand on Brittany's, gently giving it a loving squeeze like she used to when things got tough for either of them. It had been the first time in over a week since she had even touched her, the first time since she had spoken the words that had torn her apart just to admit that those feelings had even existed before the world had been kicked out from underneath her- and, from the look in the girl's eyes, she knew that it had been unexpected. Not unpleasant, she knew, reading the joy that had quickly registered within those sad angel eyes, but definitely unexpected. Inhaling deeply, she pushed a smile onto her lips, hopeful to cover the pain that was building within her chest.

"Do you… really hate me, San?"

The question had more or less caught her off guard, although she knew that it shouldn't have. In the years since she had come to know the blond, she knew that she was sitting there, placing the blame on the one person that didn't have any reason to. Offering a sad, knowing smile, Santana could only recount the years, could only remember the times that she had come to look at the girl as her closest and most trusted friend. There was once a time when her hunky-dory family had been in shambles, and the girl would call her up crying, wondering what she could have done to have created such a hostile environment at home. The Latina, who'd grown up with screaming parents, had come to terms with her own family, and was there as a shoulder to lean on as the same thing happened to her friend. They had gotten through it together, but Brittany had always been taken back to those days whenever she would see her best friend grow furious and raise either her voice or fists. While she tried not to, her temper was often easily lost, and she tried and tried and tried again not to do the things that would hurt her more than any words ever could. Yet, with every restraint she placed on herself, there was always someone who could poke and prod at her buttons until she could her fists moving on their own.

"No. I don't." Santana's voice was near to a whisper, heard only by the ears that she wanted to have heard her, and while her feelings were jumbled, she strained to make sure that her voice remained leveled. "I tried", she admitted softly, her brown eyes gazing at their feet as if they were the most interesting things known to man, "but… I can't." Slowly, her hand withdrew from the light skinned girl's, a little fearful what she might do if she continued to hold on. She set her arms to lean upon her legs, her body relaxing to the point that it looked more like she wore the world on her shoulders instead of just her leather jacket. Her mask had faded, gone and forgotten within the memories and emotions that bubbled and boiled within her, and all that was left was a lone scared girl with feelings she didn't want to express. "I don't think I could ever hate you, B." Her heart gave a mournful ache, knowing very well how she had forced her depression into anger, and her anger into spite, and spite into forcing herself on a boy who meant next to nothing to her.

She listened as the blond heaved a sigh, and from the corner of her eye she watched as her angel curled into herself a little, running her long fingers through her beautiful locks before stopping and simply holding her head between them. Looking up from her position to the blank white board, the blue eyed young woman inhaled softly, biting her bottom lip visibly as she exhaled. The Latina closed her eyes with baited breath, wondering if perhaps this was the moment that her week of bitchiness would bite her in the ass for, the moment that she would be told to leave her alone once and for all. She knew that she deserved it, and that she deserved more than just utter loneliness without the one woman she wanted more than oxygen itself. "San…" she whispered, the hurt in her voice evident, and she stopped as emotion held her words tight in her throat. "San, I… I really don't want to lose you."

Those words only surprised the tanned skinned girl, and she shakily let go of the breath she forgot she had been holding.

"It… scares me sometimes, thinking that I could. I mean, I know I'm with Artie and everything-" Santana only flinched at the boy's name, remembering that her promise meant that she'd have to let go of her semi-hatred of the cripple, "- but… I dunno." The blond shrugged, contemplating her thoughts as her close friend gave her time to vocalize her worries. "I feel sometimes like I wouldn't be lost if we broke up. 'Cause I'd still have you. But… If I lost you…" She felt her mouth grow into a tight smile, remembering how she'd been feeling since the confession had taken place. "Like… when I saw you, earlier in the hallway, my heart hurt." The girl only emphasized her words with placing her hands on her chest, turning so that her skies met the other girl's earths. "It… never hurts like that with Artie." Slowly, the blond carefully reached over to Santana's, fingers brushing against the girl's skin-

When the hustle and bustle of William Shuester and the rest of the club had returned, interrupting the duo from what they were doing and saying. Gritting her teeth together, the Latina straightened her posture once more, snapping her mask back in place as if it were second nature. Then again, for her, it was, a practiced routine so that no one would ever see the secrets that she hid. Standing from the seat she had taken, she heard a soft sigh coming from the blond- and she could quite easily understand what it meant. There was frustration, but, more than anything, the dark haired woman had heard the heartfelt sadness and anxious pain, the things that were still unsaid that had just been on the tip of her tongue.

But there had been something else, things that had been meant but never said, that did nothing but cause the heartbroken Latina's heart to pound with an excitement she hadn't felt for too long. Turning briefly to gaze into the eyes that had captured her thoughts in the midnght hours, she could see the words, hear them in her head as if the woman had said them herself.

She wasn't _**in**_ love with Artie.

It was in that exact moment that her promises to herself seemed to break, knowing that she couldn't let her go. Not yet. Not when she had even a glimmer of hope left.

Offering Brittany a small, loving smile, one she hoped no one else could see for fear that they would be able to simply look at it, at her heart that was once more on her sleeve, and know how every ounce of her wanted her best friend as something more than what she had. The last thing she wanted to deal with was a bouncing, uppity Berry inviting her to sleepovers or some such non-sense just because she was the national gay flag or something.

Not like Santana was gay. Maybe. Probably. … whatever.

Turning back around, she nearly had run into the one person she'd been trying like Hell to avoid completely, knowing that she'd most likely want to push him into a locker or down a flight of stairs if she ever caught sight of the boy. So, for the sake of her love alone, she'd done just about everything one could think of to keep herself away from the four-eyed freak- from walking the complete opposite way, whether her class was far from her gait in the other direction, to even jumping into classes she didn't belong in. The latter of the two often just pissed her off more. Looking straight through his wire frame and into his eyes, grinding her teeth to keep herself from screwing up the slim possibility of a future something with the angel just feet away, she gave only a grimace. There were so many things she wanted to do, seeing clearly the usual fear in a person's eyes whenever she was at her worst, but she bit her tongue and crossed her arms instead. Doing nothing more than a frustrated huff at his mere existence, something she should have gotten an award or medal for, she made her way over to a seat situated far from the others who had been seating themselves casually around the blond- just like she used to. With the wary looks toward her direction, it was better that way.

The only teenager from the group that didn't take a seat had been the young man whom she had been yelling at throughout the day. She steeled herself, knowing that any time the boy remained up front meant one thing and one thing one- and after all that had happened today, she was more than sure that whatever was going to be said or sung would, at the very least, include her in it. Looking briefly at their teacher in charge, she could tell by his expected gaze that the situation or song had been briefed to him. Just wonderful.

"Today…" the blond male began with a small glower in his eyes, his blues moving across the audience with a considerable slowness that was unlike him, "I want to sing. For my ex-girlfriend." Then again, after today, it seemed as if their non-mutual break-up hadn't gone the way either of them had probably planned. Taking a quick glance around, the Latina took notice of more than several pairs of eyes upon her- all except two, one of which belonged to the reason behind her and the grouper's end of relationship. The other, she unrepentantly found, were the eyes of the one and only queen bee of the high school hive herself who was staring firmly at the boy who had announced his performance for them. Santana only raised an eyebrow, her curiosity perked, wondering if she really was the exe he had been talking about.

The piano began, quiet and slow, the boy's stance firm but his head low as the keys were hit steadily louder and louder until the notes reached the appropriate volume. As the first words came, blue eyes looked firmly at her. Okay, perhaps this was about her after all.

"_**Easy come, easy go- that's just how you live**_

_**Oh, take, take, take it all, but you never give**_

_**Shoulda known you was trouble from the first kiss**_

_**Had your eyes wide open- why were they open?"**_

Immediately, Santana was brought back to the day Sam had gone after her, approaching her soon after she had convinced him of the truth of what had happened between his current flame and his rival. While her methods weren't exactly the best or nicest of ways, and while her intentions were based more upon her irritations with Barbie rather than Ken, a handful of her reasons were because she hated liars. After all, she was the biggest one around, so why let another person get away with things that could potentially break someone's heart? The fact that she was bitter and alone had merely fueled her actions further, pushing her feelings on a different blond with blue eyes instead of the one she wanted, was just another nail in her coffin, another lie to keep her warm at night.

So when she had him back up again a wall, preparing to do things to him that always left her unsatisfied, she had a brief lapse of judgment, a short acknowledgement of things she wasn't ready to admit to yet. Her eyes had snapped open, her heart praying to see the beautiful features of a woman rather than this guy who was simply filling in the spot she needed until someone new would come along, and he must have sensed it since he had opened his eyes to meet hers.

"_**Gave you all I had and you tossed it in the trash**_

_**You tossed it in the trash, you did."**_

Sam raised his hand up, pointing his finger to the audience rather than at her directly. The Latina raised an eyebrow, interested, wondering if perhaps he was just returning the bitterness she had offered him by pinning a heartfelt song of hurt on her like a murder.

"_**To give me all your love is all I ever asked cause-"**_

The other guys had moved to help give the boy background, although the young Asian male stood up in front of the female audience that were either clapping to the beat or staring at the performers with interest, hope and utter horror. She, on the other hand, presumed her usual glare, crossing her legs before her, hating more and more how the boy she had tried to help was hitting her as low as he was.

"_**What you don't understand is-**_

_**I'd catch a grenade for ya"**_

Mike pretended to throw then catch what one could only assume was supposed to be a 'grenade', only to fall back and flip onto his feet as if it had gone off in his face. She heard a few girls chuckle at this.

"_**Throw my hand on a blade for ya"**_

Sam moved as if he had a sword in hand, slashing forward, and Mike popped up quick enough to catch the imaginary blade and struggle against it. All in all, if this were an ongoing music video, she might have found it interesting. Otherwise, since he had brought her into it as more than just a simple party who had nothing to do with the events, she found herself despising it all.

"_**Jump in front of a train for ya"**_

Puck and Finn moved to either side of Mister Chang, taking the boy's arms and dragging him away as quick as they could manage. If one used their imagination right, then you might be able to see what they were trying to portray.

"_**You know I'd do anything for ya**_

_**I would go through all this pain**_

_**Take a bullet straight through my brain"**_

Mike had returned next to his girlfriend, signaling a gun with his fingers, coking it before signaling that he had been shooting it point blank. The young man snapped into action immediately, falling dramatically into Tina's lap with his tongue slightly hanging out.

"_**Yes I would die for you, baby**_

_**But you don't feel the same."**_

The gothic girl playfully pushed her boyfriend from her lap, laughing as he rolled to the floor and pushed himself up. To the Latina's surprise, the second time the blond surfer boy moved to point toward the audience, she recognized that his finger was no longer pointing either at her or even randomly. This time, his blue eyes were directly on Quinn herself- something that caused the blond bombshell of a former head Cheerio to look away, ashamed, and the dimwitted quarterback to bristle, not expecting it in the very least.

"_**If my body was on fire, ooh you'd watch me burn down in flames**_

_**You said you loved me, you're a liar, cause you never, ever, ever did baby"**_

The singer's eyes were directed still at his first love, his features pained and loving at the same time, hating the obvious distance tat had grown between them. Santana could only muse that while he could keep his heart on his sleeve, kicking and screaming how it wasn't fair, at the least he was being the one thing she could never manager no matter how hard she might try- honest with everything he'd ever felt, whether it was about her or about the girl he really wanted, the one he was using the Latina to forget- just like how she had been using him, the male composite, of the woman she yearned for. How he dared to feel hurt over their break up, Santana didn't know or understand.

The song continued, Mike more or less doing all of the stunts that were needed or wanted, something that the Glee club had often relied upon in a sticky sort of situation when they were behind the eight ball. The Latina said nothing as the song ended, but, from the way that the current quarterback for the Titans team was glaring at the blond haired male, she could almost see the steam coming from his ears. A part of her wanted to scoff at the sight, remembering all too well how it had been the other way around not that long ago as the girl between them tried to choose who was the better prom king choice. While no one else saw it, while the others only saw the broad lights of day as the blond switched from second choice pick to the boy who scored the winning touchdown, Santana had known the girl too long not to see it just for what it was- a ploy to follow in her mother's footsteps, to gain back what she had lost last year during the entire pregnancy scandal. It was ignorant, and it was hurtful for all parties involved, whether they knew of it or not. Now, it was only time till the bomb would explode and the truth would come out, and she could only ponder who would be the one most hurt by it.

Standing, choosing to ignore how people were gazing to her and her former boy toy, then to the object of his affections, she really didn't want to deal with the hypocrisy of the Glee club anymore for that day. It wasn't until she heard Mister Shuester's voice ring out through the room like a foghorn on a silent night that she had stopped herself from rising in her chair.

"Brittany, you said you also had a song you wanted to sing?"

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

_**Orokid:** So... what did you all think? As usual, here I'll put the pointless babble about reviewing the story and hope that you'll do it (cause it _**does **_make my hour and day) , and then continue on my other babble about this and that and everything in between. And yes, I mentioned that I prefer older songs last chapter, which I wholeheartedly do, but I also feel like Sam owns the feelings behind the lyrics of "**Grenade**" by Bruno Mars. Then again, that could just be me. I'm aiming to continue to use my eclectic tastes in music to further the story, and also using more of the music that I prefer. We'll see what comes up though. The only thing I know that's going to happen in the future is a song that Artie will eventually sing, one of my absolute favorites that I think fits into the Brittana storyline really, really well. We'll see with time, and also with my writing, yes?_

_Once again, if you have any thoughts- whether its about the story or even what song you think Brittany could end up singing (since I'm still kinda going between a couple)- I'd like to hear them. I hope you've enjoyed the fic so far, and I hope that you continue to do so as I continue to write. Be back with chapter three!_


	3. To Tell The Truth

_**Orokid**__: Hey guys, sorry it took me so long to finish this chapter. I started to write this back when I had finished the prior chapter, but I actually finished it a few days ago. I use the time when I'm on my work breaks to write, and I kind of been getting… out of working my MANY doubles. Mostly because I hate being there, and I hate wasting an entire day dedicating it to people who don't give a shit, and want everything for nothing, and treat me, someone who isn't paid enough to deal with them, like garbage. More or less, moral to my life story is never work in retail or restaurants. People simply suck when all you're trying to do is help them. Then again… I wasn't all that bad when I worked at GameStop those few months… That's some food for thought._

_Anyway… I'm not sure how long I'm gonna make this story, since I'm known for rarely finishing multi-chaptered fan fictions, but the good news is that I actually WANT to work on this. So that, I believe, is good news for you all reading my story. That, and the usual weekly reminder about the going-on's at McKinley High helps. I heart watching the show. _X3

_That aside… I know this chapter is shorter than the others, since I really only wanted to get a particular thing set in (which you will read). Still, I think it turned out well, and I hope you think so too. There's more to come, and I'm going to try and pump up my writing schedule to make up for my laziness in the past week. Maybe the updates won't be as slow. I don't know yet. There's a lot I still want to portray before I get to the two points of the story I started the idea off of- the song Artie sings, which has been my favorite song for a long time, and, finally, Brittana._

_Now… to answer some reviews, since I want to start doing this from now on…_

_x__: In reference to using t.a.t.u.'s "Loves Me Not", I sooooo thought about it. It's one of those songs that were on the list, to tell the truth. I wanted to, but… I figured that this would have to be later on in the story if I do end up using it._

_EmilylovesBrittana__: I can totally relate to using this story to get through the hiatus. All too well, might I add. _^^

_Rainea91, MLE, whatever1260, SantittanyIsLove91, and Nova Forever__: Thank so much for your kind words, and I hope that it continues to be as good as you all think it is. I'm mostly writing this off the cuff, so I really do hope that it keeps with your expectations._

_**Disclaimer**__: I do not own Glee or the characters within the show, nor the songs in which I use for the usage of propelling the plot forward. I do own the ideas used to create the fan fiction for which I am writing, but nothing else. I'm poor, and as much as I'd like to work for Fox on the writing staff for this show, reality tells me that's not in my future (so far). _

**CHAPTER THREE**

**To Tell The Truth  
**

Cinnamon colored eyes gazed at the blond as she raised from her seat, hand falling from the slight grip the cripple had upon her fingers. She gave him a meaningful gaze, one that held a lot more words than she probably would ever say aloud, filled with frustration and pain for the things she could not do or say to him. Santana knew that look well, having seen it not too long ago, gazing at her as she laid her heart out for the world to see. It was the gaze that returned to her at midnight, reminding her time and time again just why she couldn't bring herself to hate the one person in her life who had done nothing but been honest and loving toward her when she was nothing more than bitter and cold. Santana watched as he stared at his beautiful girlfriend, confused and unsure, somehow knowing that there was more to her gaze than just the mixed emotions that performing brought out of her. If only he knew just what laid beyond those crystal blue eyes…

Slowly but surely the blond made her way up to the front of the class, wringing her wrists nervously as she fought to raise her eyes and gaze out into the crowd that they'd known (more or less) for the last year. The Latina felt the girl's anxiety from across the room, as much as any of them probably could, but, for some reason, she knew with every beat of her broken heart the weight of the things she wanted to say, a world of unsaid words on her shoulders. The dark eyed young woman felt her chest burn, hating both herself and the boy who (unknowingly) cursed her with the decision that had to be made. Her caramel hands tightened as memories and emotions moved through her, remembering the words that had been said to her that forbidden day not that long ago.

"_Of course I love you."_

The words were bittersweet, and she acknowledged grudgingly that they were the truest exchanged between them, but she couldn't help but feel that they were contaminated, recalling with unneeded ease the rest of the conversation that had followed.

The Latina watched as the girl deeply inhaled, determination meeting those beautiful blue eyes of hers, turning her gaze to the audience who remained rapt with attention. Some held a knowing look, others carefully shifting their views between the tall blood and or the Latina and four eyed handicap. There were some that were wary, confused or interested for reasons unknown or of their own. "Santana." Immediately, blue skies were locked with her earths, fear eminating from both, love and an unspoken bond between the two girls that too many had tried to deny- even themselves. The others seemed to disappear briefly, and the heartbroken teen felt almost too glad to feel the world, filled with hatred and lies- her lies- disappear from their realities. For just a moment, it was them, just them, and that was all she needed. "I know things are… hard right now. And I know it's hard to be around me after I-" She paused, eyes looking quickly to Artie, saying the words without saying them. Confused, he took her gaze as though she were looking for help of approval, offering a vague thumbs up without knowing why. A sad smile crossed her features, pained but thankful for his reaction, and a part of her couldn't help but wonder if she really was as bad or worse at understanding things than boys were. Then again, it was moments like this, moments where she'd hold out her hand toward the Latina she cared for and hope like Hell she'd actually understood this time, that the blond could only thank God for the boy's oblivousness. "… after what happened." Looking away from the pained cinnamon colored orbs that watched her so intently, the spell between them long broken, she ran her lithe fingers up her arm, resting them at her elbows. "I miss hanging out with you, San, and…" _And our sweet lady kisses. _"… so much more.

"That's why I want you to know how much. We used to sing it back when the CD came out back when we were always together. So… please…" The girl's voice was begging slightly, and something inside the caramel skinned young woman warned her that too much had already been said, done. And she was going to be singing about her feelings now? So far, in a two or three hour time limit, the Latina had been more than finished with emotions and everything they brought with them. After all, things like that usually didn't end well. "Please, San… listen."

The moment the soft sound of guitar strings had begun, Santana found herself quickly making her way out of the room, running as far away and as far as her legs could take her.

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

Santana didn't know how long it had been since she had climbed into the only safety she could think of, staring through the front window of her car almost as if it weren't even there, gazing numb as she tried her hardest not to allow the tears to fall. Her breath had become haggard, and in pained her so much to actually breathe in and out, forcing the oxygen down past the emotions she had been barely successfully holding back. Her knuckles had turned white against the steering wheel, and the keys dangled lifelessly in the ignition as the motor continued to hum, waiting for it's owner to decide whether or not they should leave the school parking lot. The girl felt lost, alone, and she felt as if the world had pitted itself against her as it all felt apart around her.

With a sigh, she forced her hands to let go of the wheel, feeling the painful sting one got when their skin ended up sticking to anything, but it didn't matter to her. Running shaking fingers through her silky dark mane, she tried to focus herself, her thoughts rampant and uncontrollable. A part of her chastised herself for running, for not waiting to hear the words and lyrics that the blond had to sing. The other had grown silent, but she knew that it was this part of herself that had led her to feel as confused and frustrated as she was. When had all of these thoughts, these feelings, even begun? Had they always just… been there? Had she simply just ignored them when they got to be too real?

She didn't raise her head when she heard her car door open, or even when a tall, bulking figure had sat themselves quietly in the passenger side seat beside hr. Silence reigned at the sound of the door slamming shut, and she wondered why this person, this fool, had come into her car of all places after everything that had been going on. Both waited, probably so that the other could break through the tension that had somehow formed between them. But still, neither spoke. Until…

"Mister Shue wanted me to tell you the assignment for next week." His voice was plain, not an ounce of authorativeness in it, and she could feel his gaze, soft and caring, upon her. Swallowing the lump that was forming in her throat, she gave a nod, keeping her dark eyes firmly on the distance so that the male wouldn't be able to see the sadness that echoed and pooled within them. "And you looked like you needed an ear… or something."

"What do you care, Puckerman?" Her voice shook with the things she couldn't dare say, the feelings she'd been trying and failing to hide since arriving in her own car. "You're not getting in my pants, even if you try this touchy-feely crap." She paused, clearing her throat and mind as she leaned back against her seat and crossed her arms defiantly. "Go try it on Berry or something, cause it ain't workin' on me."

The mohawked male hunched over slightly, resting his arms against his knees, soft eyes gazing into the distance as thoughts moved through his head, carefully picking and choosing what he had to say. Placing his chin on his gathered hands, he spoke the only thing he could, soft and casual, a hint of regret in his voice. "You know… we used to be friends."

The Latina instantly downcasted her brown eyes to her lap, watching as her fingers idly plaued with themselves, letting the feelings of shame and guilt flow through her as memories played in her mind. If it hadn't been for teenaged horomones, she knew all too well that they would still be wrecking havoc to the Lima populous, uncaring of gender or of whom liked whom and such nonsense. After it had though, everything had changed, and it was then that she had tried to rid herself of the thoughts that plagued her mind about the blue eyed beauty she had befriended long, long ago. She didn't have the heart to tell him that she had gone to him, too afraid to admit to wanting and needing her female best friend, and had gone too far for the sake of proving to herself that she wasn't '_that way_'.

"You wouldn't understand," she whispered softly, stubbornly, lifting her fingertips to wipe the tears that were beginning to form. She felt a hand gently touch her raised arm, and she finally turned to look at the young man in his eyes: firm, yet caring and loving- not in the relationship or sexual way either. The male cracked a gentle grin, watching her knowingly as emotions flickered through her cinnamon colored orbs.

"Try me."

With a sigh, running her neatly polished nails through her hair once more, she did her best to explain it all to him- from the moment the blond had approached her to talk to Miss Holiday to the song they had sung in Glee, from the day she recalled meeting the little girl who would grow to be the person she adored (which, strangely, was the same day and moment she had met him, the boy who had been pulling ponytails on the playground) to the eruptions of feelings she'd been trying to ignore, by throwing herself at people whom she didn't care for and vice versa, all the while searching for something she felt while simply standing in the girl's presence. Years and years worth of pent of fear and affection flowed freely down her cheeks as she continued through her story, and the boy beside her silently listened, nodding as he took in everything she was throwing at him. She felt herself cring, ashamed, when his name became involved, and with a furrow of his brow, she knew that the countless amounts of times she had turned to him, seeking him out for a brief romp, had tainted the memories they shared of those times- yet he still just nodded and listened. It felt strange to her how easily the story and come from her lips, as well as how well he seemed to be taking it all. A part of her felt relieved, thankful to finally tell someone who didn't stare at her with those beautiful blue doe eyes, who didn't send a sharp pang of hurt and regret through her at the speed of sound. As she finished, they sat, awkward and unsure what to say next now that she had opened up and become honest with him. After a moment, the Latina found herself saying the words she had decreed long, long ago would never leave her sub-conscious. "… I think I'm gay, Puck."

It felt as if eons had passed before she had heard him move, let alone say anything, but she knew by the digital clock on her dashboard that it had been probably a minute max. Nonetheless, it was the longest minute in the history of man. "Wow." He sounded truly astonished, surprised, and the young woman once more lowered her head, expecting him to leave her there and never look back. What surprised her the most was what he said next. "You know… I always kinda figured something was up with you." Brown eyes quickly turned to look at him, fear crossing over them as she wondering if anyone else had seen through her many masks. "Don't look at me like that, Lopez. You look like someone told you I hit your cat with a lawnmower." He offered her a knowing, laughing smile. "And, trust me… I didn't know. Not fully. I just knew you kinda went through guys like tissues, and you were never really into it when we were doing it. Just thought you were trying to be the atypical cheerleader or whatever." Relief filled her, probably much more than it should have considering the fact that he had more or less called her the high school slut. All in all, she couldn't really look back and deny it, could she?

Softly, she heard herself whisper, "Trust me, I didn't either."

Noah nodded in response, quiet once more, questions he wasn't sure if he could ask, hopeful to be the good friend as he cast his eyes toward the hurting woman beside him. He was stuck, curious if the subject had become taboo or if the floor was still open since it seemed like the car had become a safe space between the two of them. Cursing his luck to the wind, he looked to her, seriousness in his eyes as he asked the question that had been tantalizing him. "So… what're you gonna do to get your girl back?"

"She's with Artie." Her words were soft, void of emotions, and he knew that the phrase had to be something that she had been repeating in her head for what he could guess since the day the blond chose her boyfriend over the Latina.

"Since when have boyfriends matter to you?" he teased, nudging her with a laugh on his lips, and he watched as a slow, sad smile crossed her features. At least he got that much, he mused to himself as his own toothy grin lessened, acknowledging that perhaps it hadn't been his best choice of words. "Besides… Hate to say it, but you have to admit that Artie's her best choice right now." In seconds, the smile she once had had disappeared, a venomous gaze in it's place, and, if looks could kill, he knew that he would have met his maker several times over. "Hey, hey- before you kick me outta your car so you can run me over with it, maybe you should realize that he's her safe choice."

"What do you mean 'safe', you piece-a-"

"He'd never intentionally hurt her." Puck's eyes were firm, this time showing just how in charge he could get if he truly wanted to. The girl silently wilted under his gaze, although he could tell that she probably was still imagining him in countless painful deaths. "Think about it, S- How many times have you let her in, only to tell her that she didn't matter? How many times have you given her hope, only to kill it, then add salt to the wound?" The Latina's animosity for the male diminished, losing herself in the millions of memories she held tightly onto, moving through them mentally, knowing the answer to his inquiries all too well. "That's what I thought." His tone wasn't gloating, merely pushing the fact that what he was saying was true. "She probably doesn't want to rush headlong into something if you'll just pack up and leave at the first sign of trouble."

"I get it." Her words were bitter, but they were tinged with the tears that were once again beginning to form. "I screwed up. A lot."

"… She does still want you, you know." Santana looked at him, her stare questioning if she had heard him right. The mohawked male simply gave her a gentle grin, knowing somehow just how much she wanted those words to be true. "You didn't see her after you left. She looked like someone just kicked a duck. In front of her."

An exasperated sigh escaped the girl, once more running her hands through her hair, trying her hardest not to let the tears she felt sting her eyes fall. "I don't know what to do!" She was frustrated, pained and rightly so considering the situation she was in. Hell, he'd probably be in the same position she was, not that he'd cry or anything. 'Cause dudes just don't do that unless someone was dead. And even then, the dude code said not to cry. He ran a large hand across her back, rubbing gently as her body began to shake with sobs, and he knew the moment she looked up to him through the curtains of dark strands, streams of her broken heart running down her cheeks. With a soft voice, he heard her ask the question he'd been waiting for. "What do I do?"

"Prove yourself to her. Listen to what she has to say. Don't run or throw yourself around when she says something you don't like." He shrugged, unsure what else there was to say to the Latina. "Hell… that's what I did.

Santana raised a wondering eyebrow, curious just what he meant with those words, but she kept her lips shut. His eyes had glazed over with a pain he'd never allowed himself to talk about, and even though she had gone and shared as much as she had, she could only figure that she had enough torn up feelings for the both of them. For the time being, she'd let it go, but there were no promises for later. Speaking of later… "You said there's an assignment for next week?"

"Yeah." He nodded, bringing himself back into their shared reality, placing his arms across his lap and leaning against them. "It's a theme. One that you should probably pay attention to." He paused for a beat, opening his mouth before the girl beside him did, not wanting to tempt fate and bait her anger once more. "Honesty."

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

_**Orokid**__: Okay… before you get mad at me and tell me that I didn't have her sing a song at all, let me explain- I really was going to use a song. "Last Kiss" by Taylor Swift, to be exact. Or was it "Breathe" by Taylor Swift? I think they both were on my list, so whatever. That said, I didn't expect really for Santana to really leave until I realized that… well, if something got too hard to handle, wouldn't you book rather than meet them head-on? After all, Santana doesn't have much confidence when it comes to her feelings for Brittany, even though she is probably one of the most confident people I've seen on television these days (which isn't saying much, because I don't watch TV other than Glee). So when Brittany, who seems to let everything more or less hang off her sleeve at times, even while trying to hide it from everyone else, started to talk about feelings and whatnot, it seemed plausible that Santana would ditch as fast as she could._

_Moving on… I have several ideas about what I want to have happen for the next chapter, especially now that San has to think of something to be honest about after telling Puck the truth. Perhaps..? Meh, maybe. It's on the back-burner for now. I'll see how I'm feeling as I write. _:D _If you guys have ideas, comments, reviews, whatever, please don't hold back. I'm curious and hopeful to see what you all think of this chapter. Until the next one comes, I'll read and comment on your reviews._


	4. New Friends, New Beginnings

_**Orokid:** I'm so so sorry for the last post of this chapter. So much has happened in this past month. I've been in three different states, I've helped my friend take care of his sickly mom, I've grown a year older (I'm twenty-two now!), I've broken up with my girlfriend... It's been a hectic up and down month that, for parts of it, I'm happy not remembering. Add in the fact that I'm trying to move three thousand miles away from where I live now... Yeah. Crazy, crazy person. Besides all of that, I've been watching Glee, two of the three aired episodes in California and Nevada, and the third one (the most recent one) on my birthday back at home. By the way, I know that A LOT has changed on the show since I began writing this, and I know that Kurt has returned to McKinley, but let's pretend he's still in Dalton for now. For the sake of the story. I'm working on writing him into public school soon enough, so we'll all have to see how that pans out._

_**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I do not own Glee or it's characters. Those belong to Ryan Murphy and co., and also to FOX. I am none of those people._

_PS- I'm writing this with a vague amount of sleep, and I'm estimating four to five hours tonight again. I stayed up to write and post this!_

**Chapter Four**

_New Friends, New Beginnings_

Honesty.

Honestly, the word had never felt right within her, having always been a victim to circumstance and things she'd never had an ounce of control over. Telling the truth meant becoming a disappointment to the people who meant the world and more to her, whether it be the losers she liked to sometimes hang out and sing with, or her family who raised her (more or less) to be the young woman she was. Telling the truth meant bracing herself for another weekend alone and actually telling her parents that loneliness was the thing she feared the most, letting them understand that their kind and demure daughter wasn't as strong as she'd led them to believe over the years. Being honest meant getting that look, the one filled with a mixture of grief and sheer hurt, and looking for a place to stay because there was just no way in heaven or hell that her catholic parents would understand and support her.

And, so far, being honest had done nothing more than cause her tears to fall, to allow the feelings she'd locked up for so long to come to light and destroy the only thing that had been keeping her partially sane for years. Honesty had done nothing but suck.

Yet there she was, standing at the front door to a home she'd seen in passing, belonging to a family that had everything she'd ever wished for in life. Her stomach lurched, wondering silently just what had possessed her to even think about doing something as crazy as this seemed. If she had been stronger with her convictions, with herself, and if these damn feelings just stopped popping up every time she'd see _them_ together, then she wouldn't have even driven here. At least, it wouldn't have been a sober decision. But that was beside the point at that moment, and she was currently fighting with herself on whether she should ring the doorbell or go and never look back, or maybe ring and run so she'd have something to laugh about later. Then again, in the heels she was in, she'd been surprised that she hadn't broken her ankle or slipped and fallen by then, so running anywhere was definitely out of the question.

"You're wearing a line into the cement," a voice, wry and a hint judgmental, called from the doorway, causing the pacing Latina to nearly jump out of her skin. Catching hold of the nearby railing with a quickness left behind from her years as a cheerleader, leaving her barely standing as she wobbled on her heels, she made a mental note to either throw them out or donate them to a fashion failure the moment she got home. Perhaps the gremlin would appreciate them. Turning a slightly fearful gaze toward the person at the door, afraid that they'd be able to see through her and her intentions, she quickly straightened and forced her façade back in place. If she were lucky at all, then he might not have seen the look of terror meet her brown eyes briefly.

Santana couldn't help but look him up and down, her survival instincts still attached as she bit back the biting words that threatened to overflow. The last thing she needed was a door slammed in her face when all she was looking for was someone to help her, even though a part of her was still a little confused on what she truly needed help with. His locks were crisp, gently melted into place with either products or perhaps the genes of a hair god, with a crisp white shirt and slacks that reminded her that he'd probably gotten home from school just before she'd arrived. The boy's look was less than amused by her presense, and a part of her couldn't blame him, bitch mode or not. Hell, she wouldn't trust herself either if she'd been him, considering that some of his school torment had come from her and her vicious words filled with an unspoken regret she'd never like to admit to.

She really wasn't surprised the moment he had asked her, "What are you doing here, Santana?" Her eyes flickered away from his, ashamed for the past, fearful of the future. Running fingers up her arms, she bit her bottom lip, masking falling once again as she trued to think of something, anything, to say. If she started apologizing, he would likely call the local psych ward to come and pick her up, and if she came in claiming a need to be friends, she'd have an imprint of the door on her face.

But, for the first time in what felt like a millenia, she didn't want to make up a lie and cut him deep, as deep as she could manage, so to hide like she always seemed to. If she wanted to actually complete the assignment given- something that hadn't mattered until then as she stared at her broken world filled with nothing more than the coldness of her own lies- then she'd have to start with someone safe, someone she wouldn't feel guilty about seeing every school day. Telling Puck was enough for her right now. "Can we talk?"

The boy raised an eyebrow at her question, obviously perplexed as to why she would seek him of all people out, but it was apparent as she stood there, waiting anxiously for his answer, that whatever it was had to be either important or life changing. Still, knowing that it was foolish if he did otherwise, he kept his barriers up. After all, it was better safe than sorry. Slowly, keeping his eyes upon her as if she'd break out a shiv or something, he backed up from the door, giving her ample room to enter. A part of him tried not to feel a tad bit sorry for the girl as she greedily accepted his offer, only to stop once she was at the doorway and look around frantically like a criminal avoiding the police. It took him only a second to figure out just what- rather who- she was looking for. "Finn's not here. Dad and he went out to get some parts for that broken down contraption out back." It interested him, perhaps more than he'd ever let on, how she seemed relieved for the other male absence. She moved into the living room, taking a quick seat on the couch, and he leisurely followed, still trying to figure out her game, seating himself cross-legged on a simple Lay-Z-Boy that his father normally sat in. "So… what do you want, Santana?"

The Latina bit her lip, her gaze far away, looking toward the walls or floor, anywhere that wasn't near him, and she once more continued with wringing her wrists. With a sign, impatience getting the better of him, Kurt could only do what was called for in such a situation- be as blunt as possible and hope for some non-verbal clues as to why McKinley High School's head bitch found her way to his front door. "Boy troubles?" Nothing. Considering her past, it surprised him. "Girl troubles?" Her fists tightened. Bingo. "Did you have a fight with Brittany?" There was something in her brown eyes that told him that it definitely had to do with the blond, but it wasn't quite a fight. Bitterness, sadness… There was even a tingle of emotions he'd seen there many a time, but neither he or she seemed to actually know what it was. Kurt felt his walls fall ever so slightly, acknowledging on a level he barely recognized that whatever this was was something he understood- perhaps too well.

Santana could feel her heart pounding as anxiety took hold of her, reminding her of how it had felt to tell Puck all her dirty little secrets. She could only chastise herself, knowing that this boy, out of anyone at the school whom she dared to call friend, would accept her with open arms. Hell, he'd probably even throw her a giant coming out party with rainbow ribbons and whatnot, but she couldn't help the fear that enveloped her. What if he turned away? What if he thought that she was playing a sick and twisted joke on him, and that her confession was just a slap in his porcelain-like face? If he did, she realized that she'd likely withdraw, throw herself into the arms of men who wished nothing more than to cure her lesbianism the way only they thought they could, and pray like Hell to make her feelings for her best friend disappear. Then again, that method hadn't quite worked for the past two years, so who was she to try, try again?

Running her hands through her silken locks, she locked her gaze with the floor, inhaling deeply as she readied herself for his reaction- whatever it ended up being. "Kurt, I-"

"You're in love with Brittany." His voice was flat but soft, almost incredulous of the words that had just left his lips. His eyes were slightly wide, letting the words sink in as Santana looked at him, deflated, defeated, and even surprised by her own defeat. Her tense shoulders lowered, and she found herself biting her bottom lip as she gave him a small, barely noticeable nod. The boy leaned back into his father's armchair, forgetting all about couture and manners and the like, lost in the information that had just been handed to him. He was awestruck and silent, something the Latina wasn't sure if she should take as a good or bad thing, yet she remained still, her stature firm, watching him with hopeful dark eyes that searched desperately for the one thing she had once denied the boy- acceptance.

After a moment more had passed, wringing her wrists in anticipation and far of what he- a boy who hadn't really matter to her until this exact moment- would say she found her usual impatience getting the better of her. "Say something. Don't just sit there like a Holister brand gargoyle."

The young man seemed to return to rality, his thoughts of the past lost from him as he regained his composure. Once more, his legs were crossed, although she could tell by the somewhat arrogant grin upon his blotch-less face that most of his walls had fallen. While a part of her felt glad that he was willing to open himself to her as she was attempting to do with him, she couldn't help the chill that had raced down her back, knowing somehow that she'd end up regretting this one way or another. Then again, perhaps an odd union like this, befriending one another (outside from school and prying eyes, of course) as she tried to be- God forbid- honest once in her life, would be good for her. Besides, out of anyone she knew, she felt as though she could trust him not to write it on the bathroom walls. Or, even if he did, at least he was at a school where she wasn't as infamous, and scandalous information like that would be ignored.

As he opened his mouth, a snarky comment anyone would probably be proud of on the tip of his tongue, she raised a finger to quiet him. Her pride wouldn't let her wallow in her fear any longer. At least, not with him. "I need your help, Kurt, but God give me strength if you even make one comment about what happened in the past. It's there for a reason, dammit, and we're both different people."

The boy with slick locks and a raised eyebrow said nothing for a moment, closing his lips to think about what to say in the situation he found them in. "I think that's the first time you've ever called me by my name," he noted quietly to himself, a small smile growing on his lips. His eyes watched her, both amused and understanding, knowing how hard this was for her. Perhaps _because_ it was her, he understood just how difficult this truth really was. Another moment passed, his gentle orbs moving toward one of the walls as he continued to talk, although it seemed to be more to himself rather than to her. "Now that I think about it… It does make sense. You _did_ go through men like high school fashion trends. And the amount of times you and Britt had gone for a 'bathroom break' for an hour or more…" The man couldn't help but think back to the various times they'd be caught by different members of the club- from falling out of the janitor's closet, claiming that they'd gotten locked in there (by vicious opossums, Brittany had said) or the empty classroom Finn had thought had been his chemistry class (Brittany saying that they were trying to save air by using one another's after being locked inside) or even the bathroom stalls themselves, which Mercedes was starting to think ghosts were inhabiting at one point of the year by noises not meant to be heard outside of a bedroom. There were just some images that wouldn't leave his mind, no matter how much he might try to make them leave his memory. "Speaking of that, I have therapy next week-"

"I get it, Hummel." The glare she shot him would have sent waves of fear down any normal person's spine, but he'd long been accustomed to it since he'd come to make her acquaintance at Glee club the year before.

"Emotional scars aside…" Kurt offered the young woman a knowing and caring smile, and he felt for her- well, as much as a gay man could ever feel toward any female. After all, he'd already traveled the road that the Latina was attempting to navigate through. It was going to be rough, and while the twists and turns might end up seeming different, he knew just how challenging it was going to be as she tried to find herself. "Santana, you said you came to me for assistance, yes?" The girl looked toward the floor once more, caught and ashamed even when she knew she should feel like needing someone was a horrible thing. He took that as the answer he needed, leaning forward in his chair as he collected his thoughts, leaning his arms against his knees and chin on his hands. "Then I suggest we get working on your Glee assignment now." The tanned skin girl looked up at him in surprise, and the boy could only chuckle at the wonder shining brightly through her brown eyes. "Honey, do you seriously think I only talk about Alexander McQueen and do hair when the divas come visit? I think not. Besides, Rachel and Mercedes talk my ear off about the going-ons in Glee ever since I transferred."

Santana smiled, embarrassed for forgetting that Weezy and the dwarf were both friends with him, but she shook of the shame quickly. He was right. The less time they spent talking about her feelings- her least favorite subject anyway- the better.

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

The coffee house Kurt insisted they get a drink from was probably the strangest lace a McKinley student should be, considering most of the patrons were wearing uniforms from the two private schools nearby. Especially since her usual Starbucks stop was thirty minutes away from here. She could feel the appreciative eyes staring at her from all across the room, and while she usually enjoyed the attention, she felt more out of place and awkward than she ever had in her entire life. Maybe it was because, for the first time since she had met him, she was making small talk with the gayest boy on the planet rather than teasing or harassing him. Or, maybe, because said boy had somehow convinced her to wear the simplest, smallest rainbow bracelet in public, much to her chagrin after she realized that it was a statement to the rest of the world- one that she wasn't ready to say aloud. Yet even if she had wanted to trash it in the closest waste bin as fast as she could before anyone could notice, she had agreed, and her pride refused to back down. Plus, he had reassured her more than enough times that it wasn't really vocalizing anything, and that to a lot of people it was just a unpretentious piece of jewelry. Still, she felt naked, standing there wearing something that said a label she feared more than God or the devil themselves, and the stares she was receiving wasn't helping her feel any less afraid of what strangers believed, what they said, if they pointed and laughed.

When she finally made it to the table the brunette boy's beau had reserved, she collapsed into a chair, exhausted for some reason even though all she had done was order and retrieve her coffee. She could hear the curly haired, handsome male across from her chuckle, asking her, "New to it all, are we?"

Shooting him a glare that she wished was as lethal as a shotgun to the face point-blank, she turned to look at the young man whom had seated beside her. "This was a bad idea." Grumbling to herself words both boys were sure they were better off not hearing, she reached for her coffee and sipped carefully from the lid, her frustration earning the boyfriend another death-bringer stare. "And remind me _again_ why Harry Potter here had to know."

"I'm helping," Blaine informed her, his voice firm but playful, somehow enjoying the fierce looks he was receiving. All this seemed to tell her was that she had to practice putting fear in the eyes of others again, obviously out of practice since she'd come across two too many people who weren't even bothered by her. "Besides, I think it's good if you hang with people who are 'out'. Maybe it'll give you the courage to…" He waved one of his hands enthusiastically, taking a sip of his coffee with the other. "… to be yourself."

Kurt gazed at his boyfriend lovingly, a silly smile upon his lips. "I love it when you say courage."

The Latina rolled her eyes as the boys moved in for a kiss, both repulsed and interested by their open affection with one another. As much as she was starting to find acceptance for her friend, the truly 'gayer than thou' one, she still had too many habits, too many thoughts telling her to volt out of her chair and into a church to pray for them. After all, what could one expect- her parents had raised her to be Catholic, and while she wasn't all that religious, the teachings remained deep within her subconscious, returning at the most inopportune times. Perhaps later, as she got older and more accepting of herself, she'd get used to it, but for now she couldn't refrain from the ill feelings it brought up. Still, a hopeful part of her couldn't help but wish that she might someday have what they did- a seemingly healthy, committed relationship with the girl she loved. "Please… save the macking on one another until later. Breakfast wasn't long enough ago to sit and watch you two." Despite the fact that she had even said 'please', something Santana Lopez only did in emergencies or for manipulation, they kissed again before seating themselves down once more. Her attention and patience waning, she looked at the Warbler's lead singer, her irritation easily seen. "Kurt said you could help."

The brown haired boy beside her nodded in agreement, looking toward his boyfriend with adoration and hope. "Santana and I have been brainstorming for a few days now, and we can't seem to agree on something she could sing."

"Sorry if I'm not that into showtunes," the Latina muttered softly, crossing her arms defiantly as the boy simply ignored her remark and continued.

"So I mentioned that maybe you could aid us in our search for the perfect song. You two seem to have the same knowledge of songs that I obviously don't." Kurt huffed lightly at the end, feeling both useless and frustrated that the girl had been adamant not to do anything from any sort of musical, no matter how perfect it sounded in his head. A strong understanding hand reached out from across the table, offering a quick reassuring squeeze to the young man. That alone placed a large smile upon the pale skinned male's face, even if it was a tad bit forced. He had, after all, wanted to be the one to truly help the beautiful Latina that almost everyone in the coffee house seemed to be checking out. "My aggravation aside… Do you know anything that could work with the theme 'honesty'?"

Blaine centered his eyes on the Latina, watching her as she picked at the bracelet Kurt had asked her to wear while they were there, a grimace on her face. A part of him found the move amusing, knowing from her movements alone that she truly did want to remove it, and yet she didn't. Perhaps there was a part of her that wanted to keep it on. "Santana… what do you think about honesty?" Immediately, chocolate colored eyes were upon him, confused, but she let her arm drop to the table so to focus on what she had been asked. "Maybe we could start there, work our way through music selections."

"Seriously?" The chocolate eyed teenager ran a hand through her hair, focusing her vision on her cup of coffee through the strands that fell out of place and into her sight. "I… don't know." She shrugged, fingers falling to the surface her elbows had leaned against. "I've never been good at it."

Something flaired knowingly in the Dalton boy's mind, but he kept his composure the same and his thoughts to himself. "So… you'd say that you got through your life so far… how?" He offered her a smile, hopeful to ease the nervousness that was radiating off of her.

"Lying, I guess." Once more, the girl only shrugged, looking out into the coffee house so to keep her eyes anywhere but on the one who seemed to be digging inside too deep already. She sighed, feeling the pain as she ripped open the metaphorical doors to her heart, knowing that she would likely have to be putting it on display. "I mean, first to myself. I didn't even want to admit I was…" She paused, still unable to say the word aloud, her pride and fear intermixing. She cleared her throat, hopeful to aid the rest of the sentence out, but to no avail. Instead, the girl continued. "And then my family. They're never home, always at work. Even when I was little. If they ever asked about how I was, I'd tell them that I was fine. I… never wanted them to worry by telling them I was lonely." Water had gathered in her eyes as she said this, realizing that this was the second time she had ever repeated her story aloud to people. The first time… "And then… Brittany." Her name felt like knives digging into every pore of her body, but at the same time it was like the angels had come and caressed her heart, which pounded at the mere thought of the girl. "So many times, I…" _I told her I didn't love her. I told her she didn't matter. _Slow, pain filled tears fell down her cheeks. "I hurt her. So many times, I hurt her by lying."

The hand that had offered strength to Kurt was now upon hers, a gentle squeeze to tell her that it was alright. She could feel caring hands of the male beside her caressing her back, whispering words of comfort even when all they did was remind her of the times she had done the same with Brittany. Still, she held tight her emotions, reigning them in as hard as she could, not wanting strangers to know that the heartless queen bitch of McKinley felt, let alone as deeply and as fully as she did.

The only thing she heard right then was Blaine telling her, "I think I know a song."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_**Orokid**: So what song do you think it is? I actually know, having listened to it at work again and again (during my break and while rolling silverware outside on the porch), but I'm curious what you think it is. It's been one of my favorites for YEARS, ever since the CD came out._

_To the person who suggested I use t.a.t.u.'s "Loves Me Not" for Brittany a few chapters ago, I've been seriously considering it for a later chapter! Thank you for suggesting it, and I'll try my hardest to use it._

_Also, I just realized that it's been two too many chapter's without music. Perhaps I should overdo it next one... Hmm..._

_I hope you guys like the story so far and continue reading as I continue writing. What's helping is writing on my break from work, an hour or so usually to sit down and write whatever is going on in my head. Recently, there's be a lot of Brittana fluff and angst, so I'll try to write them all down for everyone to read in the future. X3 That aside, I'm trying to get the gay squad together. I loved that scene in A Night Of Neglect where Santana tells Dave she has razors all up in her hair. Still makes me laugh!_ _I want them to hang out again... Here's my attempt to make them better friends. :D_


	5. An Honest Liar

_**Orokid: **__Wow, this took a lot longer than I had thought it would have. Then again, I didn't put a certain time aside like I usually do, simply because I didn't work much lately. If you don't understand that comment, then let me reiterate by explaining- I write during my breaks, and that time gives me enough to think and ponder how I want the story to flow, and what I want to happen. It's a good time for me to spend, and I look forward to it whenever I'm working… although that truthfully makes me want to work even less. Irony. Whatever. Hahahaha… Ha… Ha…_

_Ahem._

_**FOR PEOPLE WANTING TO AVOID DEPRESSING CRAP, IGNORE THIS PARAGRAPH**__: Also, despite lack of work, I've been going through emotional drama, having broken up with the girl whom I had believed had been my fiancee- on my birthday- and I found out recently that she's already with someone else three weeks later- AND I heard it from her sister because she didn't have the balls to tell me herself- so… yeah… Not doing that great in the love department. Sucks how one could love and hate someone at the same time. Brittana is the only thing giving me hope that there might be a happy ending for love after all, having had it proved differently now in too many ways, but… blah… whatever._

_Rawr. That's out of my system now. Mostly._

_That aside, this was something I'd planned since probably midway through the last chapter, having heard the song that's performed while on shuffle on iTunes. It's one of my favorites, ever since it came out years and years ago, when I was short(er) and more than likely recently into double digits. I loved the album the second I got it because of another song, but it didn't take me long to listen through the others. I had instantly fallen in love with it. I hope you do too, because, personally, I swear to God that Santana should sing this song someday to the Glee club. I'm sad that she didn't end up outing herself in the last episode of the season (because"Light Up The World" is SUCH a Brittana song), but ce la vie. I think that the song is relevant to her character. You'll see why in the chapter, and I'm sure that I'll mention my reasons at the end of the chapter._

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own anything Glee. Not the show. Not the characters. Nothing. I don't work any music referenced in the story either. Those things belong to their rightful owners, who are not me. End of story, really. Or is it beginning? Hmm…_

_I hope you read and enjoy it! _:3

**Chapter Five**

_An Honest Liar_

Santana Lopez had barely kept herself together as the school day went on, her mind far from the lessons each of her teachers were trying to get across. A part of her guessed that the entire school could have started an orgy of the most epic proportions (a thought that disgusted her since she did NOT want that mental image in her head at all), and she could have missed all of it, walking to and from each class without the usual snap at whomever was stupid enough to cross her path. In the back of her mind, she had heard her club mates call after her time and time again, hopeful to get her attention for one reason or another, but by the time she had finally fully realized it, she'd already passed them by and they had more or less given up. The only good thing about not being coherent was that her teachers had long surrendered from forcing the Latina into being a part of the class discussion, so at least none of the adults around her thought it was strange for her to be a non-compliant student with other things on her mind.

Throughout their entire day, her oncoming performance had dominated her train of thought, carefully reminding herself of the words, reprimanding herself if at any moment she was unsure if she'd do it at all, recalling that look of utter joy that would most surely cross those beautiful blue eyes. Even if it meant losing an entire day of learning (something only her family would be furious over if they knew), the happiness of the woman she loved meant everything to her. More than ever her damnable fear of what people would think the moment they learned how much of a liar she truly was.

The Latina bit the inside of her bottom lip as the final class bell rang throughout the school, knowing that it was time for her to face the music- almost literally. Her hands shook slightly at her sides, her usual reservations about singing in front of others getting the better of her. Even though she'd done it more times than she could actually remember, and even though she was _easily _one of the most talented members of the group, it was one thing to perform as a part of a group and another to stand center stage without someone else there to help take off some of the spotlight. Alone, she found her fear overtaking her usual confidence, unable to hide from the probing eyes of the audience as she showed a part of herself to them that no one got to see otherwise. Add in the fact that she was singing a song that had to do things she didn't like talking about, her nerves already felt shot the moment she stood in the familiar doorway, staring into the choir room as she debated one last time if she was ready for this. After all, doing this would cause her to admit things- things she was _very_ keen to keep to herself.

The moment she felt something warm and fairly large upon her shoulder, she couldn't help jumping, torn from the thoughts that had kept her preoccupied for most of the entire day. She turned quickly, tongue ready to lash out at the fool who dared place an unworthy hand upon her, her features firmly rooted into their typical snarky position. If she had any luck at all, she wanted nothing more than to put the fear of God in the opposing person, to give them the same panic that had ripped through her like lightning. But the moment she found herself gazing straight into the blues of her favorite ocean, the only place she'd willingly drown in, calm quickly washed over her. The head bitch the school knew and dreaded was no more- at least, not in the presence of the blond bombshell who was staring at her, hopeful, expecting.

"Hey," the beautiful girl murmured softly, loud enough for only the two of them to hear, an awkward yet sad smile upon her lips. Guilt erupted throughout the dark eyed Latina, knowing how she had run the moment her angelic devil had spoken aloud in front front of the others things she wasn't ready to deal with, dedicating a song she still hadn't heard. That, and also how she had been dutifully ignoring each text and call she'd received, no matter whom they might have been.

But the guilt soon dissipated, remembering with the usual bitterness that the woman she loved so wasn't hers… and probably would never be at the rate they were going. Still, a cold warmth remained within her heart, painful yet adoring of the one she needed more than oxygen itself. "Hey," she whispered in return, moving to lean against the doorframe and away from the girl's arms that had been around her. She pushed herself to focus on the words, the lyrics that she had been distracting herself without throughout the day, rather than on the girl in front of her, no matter how many times that hadn't worked before. She still had to try against all odds.

"How are you feeling?" Again, her mental efforts were in vain, and she was lost in the girl before she even knew it. A part of the Latina wasn't sure if she was even asking about her health or the assignment at hand, but she shrugged as a response for either of them. All in all, sharing the same doorway felt like a mixture of heaven and hell, and the light in her breath-taking blues only reminded her of all the things that had been happening since Miss Holiday had come into the picture and forced her to open up. Through song, nonetheless. Damn Glee. "You never called." The statement itself had been blunt, but Santana had known her for far too long not to hear the utter disappointment the girl felt, nor the hope that there was an actual reason- a good one- behind her actions.

The caramel skinned beauty shrugged again, wondering briefly where all her biting words had gone… although that thought was halted and forgotten as she looked into the pleading cerulean orbs that continued to watch her. "I was busy." She tried to sound sure of herself, praying that the girl would believe the thousandth lie she had just fed her. Santana nearly scoffed at the irony in that fact.

Disbelief echoed in the gaze before her, knowing the Latina too well not to hear the uncertainty and anxiety. The blond opened her lips, ready to confront the truth she knew like the back of her hand- but found herself cut off before a word could leave her.

"Hey, Santana." The dark haired girl both cursed and thanked the masculine voice that had intervened, although the urge to kick him in the knads was almost as overwhelming. Especially with the undertone he had used, twisting the simplicity of her name to sound enticing and sexual. And as he'd slipped his large hand around her shoulder, protective and friendly, draping it across behind her. The back of her neck prickled as her anger formed, bubbling beneath the surface despite her desperate attempt to keep herself from ripping that lecherous piece of his body clean off the boy. Even if they held an understanding now of her… little problem, and even though _she_ knew he meant nothing by it, it was the fact that the blond didn't have a clue of it all.

The Latina opened her mouth, hopeful to let loose the facts about the reason why Puckerman, the man-whore, was acting so friendly toward her, but the hurt in those sapphire diamonds and the firm but trembling hand she held up silenced her. "I get it, San." It broke her in pieces, hearing the sorrow the girl felt looking at the two of them. "You don't have to."

Panic ran through her, feeling the last of what chances she might have once had slip through her fingers like grains of sand at the beach. She swallowed hard against the lump growing in her throat, urging her voice to work, reaching out to quickly grab hold of the girl's sleeve before she could leave. "Britt, I… It's not what you think." Hope glittered from behind the sadness, but the uncomfortable confusion that remained amongst the three of them left the blond unsure whether or not to believe the young woman she once called her closest friend. Once again, guilt buried the Latina, knowing now how all of her lies were breaking them apart at the seams. "Please. Today. Listen. I…" Her voice broke, soft and uneven as the tears she'd held tight to for the day met the edges of her eyes. "Please, Brittany."

It was quite possibly the quietest she'd ever become while around someone who wasn't blond, beautiful and female, and that alone was enough to convince the hesitant dancer that there was something more there than what she saw. Santana could read it in her eyes, before they had tore away to exchange a glance with the male whose arm remained around the dark haired Latina's shoulder. Finally, Brittany gave a small, skeptical nod. "Alright."

The caramel skinned beauty offered her an apologetic smile, her heart wishing that she truly had the nerve to once more reach out and take the girl's pinkie finger into hers like old times.

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

The club began as much as it usually did- Mister Shuester had rubbed his hands together and exclaimed that he couldn't wait to hear what the class had in store for him- right before asking if anyone was willing to step up front and sing whatever tune they felt coincided with the week's theme. Of course, the first hand to pop up had been one Rachel Berry, who ended up yammering on about something, like how some of the most glorious divas in time had trouble with the hard fist of honesty, and how she wanted to show that she too had been having issues accepting some truths in her life. Santana only scoffed at the sound of this, finding it unimaginable that the girl had trouble grasping and accommodating, arms open wide, anything in her life. Hell, she still couldn't believe that there was anyone in the world who was as or more talented than her, so anything else was absurd and laughable. "Please, Man-Hands. You still can't accept the fact that leprechauns won't even take you in."

She was positive that the girl should have had whiplash from the quickness she had turned her head to look in the Latina's direction, and that the glare on her face was probably the worst she had ever given anyone. The chocolate eyed girl felt herself shrink, although only a little, before her pride kicked into gear, returning with fervor a gaze that most would have felt paralyzed under. The fact that the diva hadn't even flinched reminded her of her decision the prior day- she desperately needed to work on her scare tactics to regain her lost footing in the school hierarchy. "If you're so sure of yourself, Santana," the short girl began, spitting the words vehemently, "then you go. Grace us with a performance that will woo us and bring us to tears."

A smile crossed the Latina's lips, triumphant, but under the weight of her peers' gazes, she felt it diminish to a smirk only a few were likely to even see. "As it so happens, Willow, I was going to perform today anyway." The cockiness in her voice denied the anxiety that bubbled beneath the surface, the words returning to her to remind that it was a confession of sorts, not just a simple assignment where she'd put people in their place for belittling her talents. She felt the blue eyes of her angel upon her, watching quietly from the front row, and the confidence that had kept her afloat in her days filled with reminders as to why she wasn't good enough wavered. Opening up, even to the people who had been there despite her poor attitude, who took her in and have her purpose when she had been kicked off the social ladder she'd climbed since freshman year onto her ass, was never something she claimed she was good at. Hell, when she sang that Fleetwood Mac song with both Brittany and Miss Holiday in front of the club, that had been the most open she'd ever allowed herself to be. They weren't people whom she loved. They weren't Brittany with that smile that could melt her heart and make the world crumble around her. They were friends, confidants whom she'd never really gotten along with, acquaintances whom withstood her actions probably only because it was illegal to kill her. Standing from her seat, feigning the guts she just did not have, she slowly and carefully walked through the front row. Her breath caught briefly at the simple yet wondrous touch of the woman she adored so completely, stopping for just a moment to lock eyes with the blond. The gentle squeeze she gave reminded her that, despite everything and everyone else, Brittany would always be there through thick and thin.

Her gaze wavered from her beloved, looking directly at the boy whom her angel called her 'boyfriend', and her decision to get it over with once more solidified herself. It was because of him that she had to fight for the heart of a girl who had once been her's. If anything, she was going to make him regret coming between the two of them, and she was going to make him want to fight hard for the young maiden she desired.

Inhaling deeply, she turned toward the center of the room, grabbing hold of the stood that usually remnade beside the piano. Brad… 'Tinkles'… The simple piece of furniture stretched his fingers, waiting, but she could only offer him an apologetic smile- one in which he understood. He would not be needed for this number. Puck rose quietly from beside Lauren, sliding the strap to his guitar over his head as he took his place on stage with his friend. Gulping down her growing fear, she took her seat, staring out into the audience filled with people she saw but didn't see, uncertainty in her eyes as she gazed directly at the girl who held her heart in her hands. "Look, I know I'm not the most truthful out of all of us. I point out everyone's flaws to hide my own, but… whatever. That's not the point." The chocolate eyed sixteen year old shrugged, rubbing the dirt absentmindedly off from one of her palms, her gaze moving to the shoe stained carpet below. "So yeah… This song is basically me being honest. For once. To you guys, but…" She cleared her throat, feeling a wave of emotions hit her hard, pushing down the tears that already threatened to show themselves before the people that weren't allowed to see that part of her. Santana Lopez just didn't do tears in front of people who weren't named Brittany. "… mostly to myself."

Turning her head toward Puck, she gave him a small nod, her final pillar of strength as she found herself falling apart. With the quiet shimmer of a sound, the drummer hit one of the high hats, and the mohawked male began a soft, soulful melody. Lowering her eyes to the floor, she felt herself rip open the stitches of her broken heart, coming clean to the Glee club with an emotion she'd never let anyone see before- a painful, heartfelt honesty that would have usually made her double over and sob. Still, she sand, letting free the pent up frustrations she felt with herself over the past few months.

"_Dear lie, you suck, you said you could fix anything_

_Instead, I'm fucked, you made things even worse for me"_

The beginning lines meant more than possibly anyone could understand, finding irony and ache within them as they slipped from her lips. So many times, she had turned into herself, told herself that the kisses she shared with her best friend were practice, and that the times they spent giggling and cuddling against one another didn't cause her heart to skip a beat. Too many times, she had forced herself to believe that she didn't feel anything, and that, if she did, then there had to be a guy out there who could make her head turn, kill and revive her with a simple, caring smile- the way that the blond always seemed to, no matter where they were or what they were doing. She had turned to men, seeking, craving, needing to prove that she wasn't _that way_ even as her heart whispered in the darkness, as she'd slip under the covers of Brittany's bed alongside the girl, the truth. She never wanted to listen, never wanted to admit to anything she felt within her. Even if it meant looking like a complete and total slut to the rest of the school, she had to make those thoughts, those feelings, disappear in each and every guy who leered and touched and sullied her body with fingers and lips that did nothing but make her want to shower at the end of every night. The lies she told herself were supposed to make it all disappear, and she'd be normal, and she'd feel loved and adored by men and return those affections someday.

But normality never came. Soon, the innocent kisses the two shared grew passionate, needy, hopeful to feed the nothingness that was growing inside of her. She lost herself in the woman, allowed herself to speak what honesty she could with her body, letting free the feelings in passionate abandonment. The moment that her lover began asking questions, hopeful to pinpoint where they were within their relationship, if one could call it that, she'd shoot back more phrases, more lies, denying feelings and emotions at every turn. _"I'm not making out with you because I'm in love with you." "Sex is not dating." "I'm like a lizard- I need something warm beneath me or else I can't digest my food."_ So many words, so many things she had said… So many lies, just so she could feel _normal_ for a few moments.

And now, there she was, regretting each and every one of those moments, wishing that she could go back in time to agree to do that damn lesbian song with her during the duets competition.

The dark haired Latina looked up toward the audience, finding the unsure yet compassionate orbs of the woman she loved more than life itself. From the light in the blond's eyes, she could see that the girl understood what these words meant. Not just for her, the girl who pushed her to accept herself above anyone else. Not even for them, really, although that was definitely a part of it. She was apologizing for all the lies she had said to them, to Brittany, washing her hands of the things she'd mentioned in the past, admitting that most of what she's spoken and done before were untruthful. Santana swallowed hard the tears that were once again building within her, refusing to cry out in anxiety until she was in the safety of arms or sheets of a bed she in which could trust.

"_If I had balls, I'd tell you get away from me"_

Santana felt her voice waver slightly, hearing herself say the words that had just left her lips, knowing within herself that she didn't have the confidence to step out, to accept the things about herself that she wanted desperately from the woman she loved. For too many years, she had been lying, pushing down the feelings until, like a full trash can, it began to boil over with scraps of feelings she still wanted to deny. Her heart felt heavy, her eyes falling to look at a spot on the floor to the left of her, away from the others, away from her blue eyed beloved who watched her closely, lovingly.

"_Guess I'm not smart, I let you unnerve me, I let you control me_

_Afraid that it would hurt me, when it's you who hurt me more"_

The Latina swallowed as the lyrics to the first stanza ended, her hand on her chest as she sang how she'd hurt herself with her lies, keeping her gaze steady with a spot on the carpet no one else could see. She was thinking back, recalling each moment she had been in bed with her, every time she had told her they'd talk about it in the morning then distract her so to avoid mentioning it ever again. The memories hurt, painful as she thought back to how happy she had once been, blissful and ignorant to how heartbreaking her distance would eventually make her as time wore on. Every move she had made was decided simply so she could hide from the truth, hide from the emotions she did not want, and it killed her now.

"_Get outta my mind, get outta my head_

_Get outta my mind, stop puttin' words in my head_

_Get outta my mouth, you're nothing but trouble_

_Get outta me, outta me, outta me lie_

_Lie, lie, lie, lie… lie"_

The chorus had welled, her hands moving as she almost physically pushed away all the words she'd ever said, fingers spread wide as her arms moved to thrust them away. Every part of her wanted to stop lying, to be the woman she was meant to be and be with her lover once and for all. She wanted to make sure another lie never slipped from her lips again, and that Brittany would never leave her for someone who could never give her the things the girl had always secretly wanted.

As she sang the final word to the chorus, the final 'lie', she looked up at the blond, her heart on display for the club to see. For the first time, she didn't care, didn't mind that the others could probably see how openly she laid herself out for the others to see. It was freeing, a feeling she hadn't felt in too many years, trapped in the jail of her heart and soul as she forced the world to see the version she had thought they'd wanted. Lifting her head, she made eye-contact with several members, the confidence she'd lost at the start building within her as lyrics once again coaxed their way out from her.

"_Dear lie, you're dumb, you think you've got the best of me_

_You think you've won, misread my vulnerability_

_I've got your balls, now get the hell away from me_

_I've learned your heart- won't let you unnerve me, won't let you control me_

_The truth will only free me, and your lies won't hurt no, no more"_

Santana pushed herself to the edge of her seat, singing clearly, her heart pounding within her chest as reality slowly came crashing back down to her as she realized that she was near to the song's end. Chocolate eyes met with striking blue, holding them as the words sunk into the others minds. The Latina barely held tight to the tears building in her eyes as she saw a proud, adoring smile upon the blond's face- a sight she hadn't seen in far too long a time, directed toward her, only at her. She felt her heart race beneath the girl's gaze, the world soon lost around her, the audience falling away so to leave the two of them there, in a time and space where her fears were non-existent, and her blue eyed goddess's boyfriend still yearned for someone he couldn't have. It was a plain of existence where there was no lies, just love, just the feelings that she'd denied herself to express.

Her voice stronger than it had been throughout the entire performance, a grin growing upon her lips, she let lose the chorus once again. She could hear in the background of her mind how others had taken to helping her sing it, but the only thing she could see was the girl she loved. No longer were lies going to come between them, between the feelings she knew they felt toward one another, and she'd do anything to prove it to the girl, no matter the consequences or backlash.

It wasn't long before her trance had been broken, and the world had haphazardly fallen back into place, _his _hand reaching over to take hers, _her_ eyes breaking from the Latina's to stare caringly at _him. _Her heart slowly feel back into pieces again, remembering that she was no longer in her world of fantasy, no matter how much she'd prefer it, and that Brittany Pierce was not hers to have. She still was with _him_, and Santana was still a liar, although a newly reformed one.

With a slow, painful tone, she drew out the final lyrics, closing her eyes as a tear slowly cascaded down her cheek.

"… _lie, lie, lie, lie, dear lie…"_

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

Santana stood, her feet rooted to the floor beneath her, unsure how she was remaining upright as she stared into her audience of familiar faces. They were cheering, complimenting her on the raw emotions she had somehow pulled out of herself to complete the song, and she could hear in the background how Mister Shue was laughing in mirth, declaring that she had given them all a run of their money. They had been welcoming, understanding of her lies, even if they didn't know why she did them, and it would have been the most perfect time to come clean to all of them, to tell them the secret that was burning through her entire soul like a cigarette through paper, but… Something stopped her, something held her back from opening her mouth and letting loose the words that were both her heaven and hell. The world had been lost from her, forgotten even as she felt strange and unknown hands pat her in appreciation, declaring how she had "killed it" or some variation thereof, her gaze directed at the one person she had wanted to prove herself, her heart, her worth, her love to. Blue eyes glimmered, unsure what to say or think, but the same fear and anxiety she had the day the Latina retracted at the one comment Rachel had teasingly mentioned remained. The chocolate orbed beauty felt her heart clench in realization, and she closed her eyes to stay the tears that were threatening to fall.

It wasn't enough.

She inhaled deeply, her fingers trembling with apprehension, knowing that the effort to show her heart, her adoration for the woman of her dreams, to put light on all of her lies, had been in vain. Opening her eyes, she stiffened her posture, forcing on the usual façade in hopes to hide behind the masks she wore, praying that no one would take notice of the weaknesses she had briefly show to them. Still, knowing hands found her heavy shoulders, offering her support even when she didn't want the world to know she had needed any. Turning, she saw her guitarist, her friend, watchful and understanding, offering her a smile that few could read, and she painted one on in return. Opening up to him, telling him the truth, had been the right thing, no matter what she might have told herself, glad to have him look at her with something other than the contempt she deserved. He didn't have to understand that his former multiple-night stand wanted the touches of a certain person, didn't have to care when he found out that person was a girl, and yet he did. It was strange and foreign, but not unwanted.

Looking to her other side, she found herself gazing right into hazel pools, blond locks framing the first true smile she'd seen on the girl, albeit sad and sympathetic for things Santana couldn't dare say aloud, in over a year. The Latina felt an unsteady shock flow through her being, her mask slipping just long enough to gaze at the other girl in confusion and hope, an unsaid prayer on her lips as she waited for the accusing glare that never came. The young woman said nothing in return, simply giving her a gentle, loving squeeze on her shoulder instead. _'I'm here for you.' _She didn't have to say it. She could hear it loud and clear through her gesture alone. There was an understanding of the past, of things that had yet to be settled or apologized for, words unsaid but meant between them. Reaching, the caramel skinned girl caressed the fingers of her pillars of strength with her own, a silent _'Thank you' _for being her strength as her's was waning.

A gentle touch at her hand tore her abruptly from her thoughts, alerting her to yet another unneeded touch, her brown eyes turning quickly to look at the person who had dared handle her without permission. Her breath caught in her throat as she found herself drowning in those blue pools that were both her hell and sanctuary. She felt the hands upon her shoulders tighten, offering silently the support they knew she needed as she faced the cause to her unshed tears- but she quietly removed herself from their tender grips. Something within those oceans of emotions before her told her that they needed to talk- privately. And something inside herself said that, while she didn't particularly want to, she needed to confront the things she already knew without them. Santana nodded slowly, her heart heavier than her shoulder could ever carry, turning her pain filled orbs away from all of the others, locking them onto the floor beneath her feet. To anyone else, they saw the possibility of a broken friendship to mend, but to certain eyes, they suspected the truth.

"This is bad," Puck muttered, watching as the duo left the room, wanting nothing more than to chase after her and protect her from the things that were likely to come from the blond's lips. His fists tightened, somehow remaining in place- until he realized that hands had enveloped one of his own, cradling it gently and thoughtfully.

"You're right. I don't trust this," she spoke softly, her hazel eyes locked on the door where both of her friends had just left from. Looking at the woman who had long bewitched him, he swallowed, nodding in response, unsure what else to do in the situation they were in. After all, it was rare that any of his friends ever needed him- the guy who partied and drank hard whenever he could- but he wasn't going to screw this up. She needed him. She needed both of them. "We'll have to be ready for whatever's going to come our way. We have to be there for them."

"Them?" he question, raising an eyebrow as he tried to think if he had heard her right.

The blond haired beauty nodded, her gaze firmly on the door leading out, her heart reaching out for the girls, praying to protect her friends from things she couldn't control. Whether they had been having problems or not, the memories of the past kept her connected to them, and she still cared for those girls even after being physically assaulted by one of them. That didn't matter in the end. Hurt feelings were in the past now, and she was going to help for once. "This is something neither of them can help- relationship or not."

Artie, having been silently listening as the school bad boy and the potential prom queen talked, felt something within her heart pound, mourning things that he had yet to lose.

_****_

_**Orokid:**__ So yeah… Cliffhanger. Technically. I just want to keep you all reading! I'll be sad without readers like you… Anyway, I sort of have the next chapter planned. I'm likely going to be using something that I'd written for the story earlier (but edited out, since it worked better without it) and we'll see how that goes after that._ ^_^

_The song used for this chapter was TLC's "Dear Lie" which is, as aforementioned, is one of my favorites by the group. I really only used the lyrics that worked best with the story, and, while a part of me wanted Santana to out herself here, I knew that she wouldn't. She's slowly coming out to everyone, some who already knew and others whom she had to tell straight out, but she can't just up and announce it. Especially at school, where rumors fly faster than… well, whatever the fastest air animal is. So yeah, it's a slow process, but we're getting there. Anyway… I imagine that Brittany is going to have San make a choice next chapter. Hmm…_

_That aside, I'm curious to hear what you think. I'm still more or less writing this on the fly, but I do have a small little plan to stick with. In the next couple of chapters, Artie will likely sing the song I've had in mind for this story since the thought of it had begun, and we'll see where the couple are then. I love you all, comments or not. Thank you so much for reading. I really appreciate it._

_PS- I hate waiting for season three to start. Needs to start tomorrow. But, then again, now I have more time to write. _X3


	6. Arguments and Honesty

_**Orokid: **__Hmm… I mostly wrote this due to a heavy amount of times on my hands, and the second half was due to the same reason as follows. The internet has gone out every once in a while where I live, because the people who put in all the cables and all that did it wrong, so every time it rains I'm out of luck. It's annoying as Hell, mind you, so yeah… I wasn't distracted by whatever the Hell I feel like I need to look at. So, that said, I wrote. And wrote and wrote. So, even though I probably could have posted the first half a while ago and added the second half as a different chapter, I figured you guys already waited too long for it. Perhaps lack of internet needs to happen more often, because I do write a hell of a lot more. _:3

_Besides that… Has anyone listened to the new Lady Gaga CD, Born This Way? I have been listening to a few of the songs (that haven't hit the radio where I am) non-stop, and I've completely fallen in love with them. It definitely has a gay/lesbian ideal to it, as well as a religious mentality. Still, some of the songs just… don't fit with me. Could just be me, but who knows? Maybe you too have had that issue with some songs or CDs by your favorite singers._

_Anyway… I hope you like what you read. _^_^

**CHAPTER SIX**

_Arguments And Honesty_

The hallway echoed eerily in the silence of a near empty school, the teachers either picking up after their classes and readying for the next day, or already gone with much of the student populous. She could hear the sound of the sports teams proceeding just outside the walls they confined themselves in, the angry taunts of a certain cheer coach louder than the rest. She could feel her muscles respond to the sound, her memories of the past, creeping up on her as she and the blond bombshell walked quietly thought the corridors. She remembered the sore limbs, the gurgle of an empty stomach as they performed maneuvers they barely had the energy for, falling ungracefully into the locker rooms with the others who no longer cared if they had dropped their walls so they could openly show their exhaustion to the people who simply understood that this was what was needed to survive. They were popular, the top of the social pyramid, so long as they worked their asses off for that slave driver of a coach. They ignored the moments she'd steal when she thought no one was looking, pulling the beautiful young woman she had always secretly loved into the furthest shower stall in the corner of the room, kissing away the pains and bruises from their eyes and bodies. Now, looking back on those days were painful, more than any broken bone or battered pride she may have received on the field, seeing only all of the chances she had once had and thrown away.

Brittany paused in her gait, and Santana swore she could hear a mournful dirge in the background as she too came to a complete stop behind her. The Latina couldn't stop herself from swallowing down the lump that had formed in her throat, azure eyes swerving around to meet her own russet gaze. Her heart swelled with both love and fear, knowing within her being just what was coming, but the feelings she had for the girl could not be denied. She felt like she had been holding on to Pandora's box for her entire life, told not to look inside for the sake of the world, and she had opened it because she was just too curious to know what could cause the Earth such turmoil. And, like Pandora herself, the only thing left after letting loose her demons was hope, and nothing within her- not the stubbornness she was known for, not the attitude people felt she had, not even God or faith- could take that away from her. Praying that she wasn't right, that the love of her life wouldn't deny her yet again, she waited with baited breath for what the blond had to say.

"San," the girl began, leaning back against the lockers they'd stopped near, words she couldn't begin to express unreadable to the young woman who had once prided herself on being able to understand her best friend like a familiar novel. Now, the book remained, pages written that were strange and unknown to her after all this time, a part to the blot she'd somehow missed in the several years she'd been reading her. "I thought you were going to be honest."

"I was." Her tone was desperate, searching the beauty's eyes for the things she knew were there, the words the Latina had always heard in each and every action the blond had ever done. "I told them the truth."

"Without even saying it." Disappointment rang clearly in the girl's voice, pained that she had mistakenly believed in something that hadn't happened. Santana felt the last of what hope she had leave her as the young woman turned her eyes away, avoiding the chocolate pools which still prayed for the words that would bring out a billion-watt smile to the girl's beautiful face- something she only wore while around the blue orbs she desperately adored. Her heart sank, watching as the taller girl clenched her hands into bitter fists, angry for the things she could do nothing about, only to lessen her grip, sadness emanating from the girl. "I can't…" The blond inhaled a shaky breath, and the Latina realized achingly that the woman she loved was trying hard not to let loose the tears that were building. Santana felt her own fingers reach out toward her, instinct taking hold, wanting nothing more than to ease the sorrow- but her hand stopped, frozen in midair as the girl before her shook with emotions. "I can't keep waiting for you to make up your mind."

"I have," she plead, her hands falling into defeated fists at her sides, determination in her bones as she held back the feelings that threatened to fall down her own cheeks. "I want to be with you, Britt. I told you that." The dark haired girl forced on a smile, hopeful that such a simple gesture would be enough to sway her argument. "I want it to be me and you. _Just_ me and you."

"And I want to tell the world," Brittany sighed softly, and Santana felt her heart break just a little at the sound she made. Anytime this girl was sad, the Latina had always felt the emotions by a tenfold, painful to see her as anything other than the wonderful, lovable person who liked to gush happily about rainbows and unicorns and her cats… and whatever else would pop into her mind. The blond before her now was foreign, having only seen this sight of her only on a few occasions- when others called her stupid or retarded, when her parents ended up getting a divorce back when she and Britt were in seventh grade, when the cat she'd had since she was a baby died last year due to old age- and now the reason for that look, the only person she could blame, was herself and no one else. If she could have, she would have done to herself what she'd done to the others who dared hurt Brittany- torture and terrorize both privately and or public, shoot their reputations down the drain with several scandalous rumors, and (if they had still not learned their lesson) beat them. Physically. But she could do none of those things, too afraid to lose her fair-weather friends on the social hierarchy because she just didn't think she could survive going through what Kurt had. "I want to be able to hold you hand in front of everyone. I want to be able to kiss you _in front of everyone._ I don't want to just link pinkies and hear you whisper that you love me in a crowded hallway in the corner so no one can hear." The blond hiccuped with a sob she refused to show, but Santana knew the girl too well. Her heart ache at her words, knowing that she couldn't give those things to her.

At least, not right now. Later, when they were out of school and away from Lima, in a large city with a huge gay population or something, she could probably manage to. Probably. "I just need time."

Brittany silenced herself, lost in her thoughts as she tried to think about what could be said or done in the situation that they were now in. She was hurt, but something in her demeanor wanted nothing more than to trust in the things that the Latina was saying, to believe that time really was all she needed. Santana watched silently, anxious, as the girl before her nibbled thoughtfully on her lower lip, waiting to hear the verdict that would either make or break her.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, the beautiful dancer opened her lips, speaking her mind. "I'm not leaving Artie." Her voice was firmer than it had been moments before, a resolve in her tone despite the fact that they both knew just how confusing this probably was for her. Hell, for both of them. Anguish quickly filled her, tearing wide the wounds she'd just barely stitched together since that day not too long ago when she'd laid her heart for the world to see, offering a love they both wanted but couldn't have. Hearing those words brought her back to the past once again, reminding her of the things she'd been told that cursed day, when her adoration for the beautiful dancer had been denied. _'And I would totally be with you if it weren't for Artie.'_ The words repeated again and again, like a disk on a permanent skip, replaying her least favorite part of a song over and over until she was ready to throw herself off of Lima's tallest hill- which was really only dangerous if you were on a motorbike. Going sixty miles per hour. In a snowstorm. In the middle of the night. But, at least, the thought was still there. "Not without a good reason."

And like it had slowed and almost stopped seconds before, her heart began to race the moment Brittany had said the only thing that could make her feel exhilarated to be alive, to be able to love. Her body moved on it's own, glad that the girl was offering her at least a sliver of a chance, granted her a bit of time to work out all of her problems, and she found herself pressing the girl against the lockers behind her, kissing her hard and passionately in the empty hallway. For a reason unbeknown to her, she felt both glad and disappointed by the lack of people around them to see her claim the girl, the girl she was happily lip-locked to returning the kiss with a fervor no one else could ever receive from her. Still, it was better this way, better to be a secret rather than out in the open. After all, Brittany had a boyfriend- an innocent-of-the-things-they-did-or-said boyfriend, who trusted them together, who thought his girlfriend was a good influence on the demon they thought Santana was. And Santana… Santana was the school's head bitch in charge, known for sleeping with boys whether they were in a relationship or not, tearing people down at any opportunity and making one regret ever stepping in the same hallway she occupied. It just wasn't the right time.

Not until things were settled, and they lost the labels they'd unwittingly gained over the past year.

They were both breathless by the time they'd finally pulled apart, selfishly needing oxygen when, by the light in each of their eyes, it was fairly obvious that any willpower either had once had to keep from one another, to stick with friendship while figuring out all the rest, was lost. Santana bit her bottom lip with arousal, her lips still dangerously close to the other girl's, blue eyes locked with brown as emotions of all kinds echoed within both of their depths. Love, lust, fear, anger, sadness… Brittany's hands gripped tightly to the Latina's arms, a sudden unsure yet hopeful look to her gaze, sparkling, with both her unshed tears and a worry the girl seemed too timid to speak aloud. It took only moments for the shorter girl's desire to quench itself, concern written all over her features as she hoped that her actions had not done anything to harm what chances she may have gotten- yet she also wanted nothing more than to ease the blond's qualms, to tell her that everything would be alright, that they would figure it out and that Santana would find a way to work through her reservations.

Softly, the sapphire eyed beauty spoke, Santana catching her as she anxiously swallowed down the words and feelings that had probably been building steadily within her throat. "Can… Can I… sing you something?" The Latina raised an eyebrow, surprised that her closet friend, her true beloved, hadn't just pulled her off into a classroom of some kind or simply had begun to right where they were standing. "Mister Shue… He said that sometimes… it's easier to sing about feelings than to say them." The blond haired dancer gently pushed the other girl away from her, her touch loving, yet it didn't take much for the caramel skinned former cheerleader to figure out that it was just because she needed space to think. Stubbornly, hurt caressing her broken heart once more as she crossed her arms before her, hopeful to guard herself from what was likely to hurt her, Santana waited, she listened. "I just… I need to, San. I need to say it. I need to be honest."

Immediately, the Latina blanched, realizing that Brittany being honest would probably mean performing in front of the others in the club, that the truth about the two of them would come out- and that everyone in Glee would turn around and look at her, blame her for a crime she hadn't exactly committed. At least, not entirely on her own since it was painfully clear that the blond wasn't willing to break things off with _him_, the boy who was able to give her lover everything she couldn't. "No." The word was firm, the tone signalizing that her decision about it was final and that there was no convincing her otherwise. She watched helplessly as the girl's face contorted in confusion and hurt, but Santana Lopez was determined, too stubborn to change her mind that the world around her was going to do everything it could to claim that she was nothing more than a devil's spawn and was going to go to Hell. "Just… no."

The Latina watched as the girl before her jutted out her bottom lip by instinct alone, a master of the puppy dog stare without even knowing that she was. It took every fiber in her bones and body not to give in, like she had several times before whenever the beautiful young dancer would give her that exact look. There were many things she looked back and regretted, as well as looked back and remembered with a fondness that no one else would understand… or ever know. "Why?" But this was different than trips to the local pond in the middle of the night with a possible fear of being caught and taken home by nosy, good for nothing cops.

"Because… We talked about this." The firmness in her voice had softened, her weakening resolve clear as her shoulders lowered with her guard. There was nothing within her that wanted the girl to feel like she was being denied something, and that was something she just could not allow herself to do. Even if her feelings had been denied, in one way or another, she just could not do the same to her. It was a vicious, painful cycle that she was destined to go through time and time again. "If you go out in front of them and be honest… about us and Artie and everything… where does that leave my big coming out plan?" It was a lie, of course. There was nothing in her heart or mind that had a scheme of some kind, but there was no telling the blond she loved that.

"You have a plan?" Brittany questioned incredulously, an eyebrow raised at the mere idea that her secret lover was actually thinking of something like that. "I thought-"

"I'm working on it," the Latina sputtered out without thinking, confidence she just did not have oozing from her like a freshman's cheap perfume, a carefree smile on her lips despite her curling, anxious innards. "But if you go out there and tell them-"

"I wasn't going to tell them." The sadness that had once been in the dancer's tone resumed, her voice faint in the sound of the silence around them. "I just wanted to sing something to you." The blond crossed her arms in front of her form, much like the woman before her had, her words a mere whisper now as blue eyes turned to look into the hallway around them. "Nevermind."

While everything inside the shorter girl was screaming at her not to, the bow had broken, and she found her arms encircling the other woman's waist with a gentleness that no one thought was capable from her. She lowered her gaze, hopeful to catch Brittany's, a loving smile upon her lips as she bobbed and weaved until she received the attention she had been seeking. The look in her eyes was something that should have broken her earlier- the pain, the frustration, but mostly the disappointment brought her to yet another breaking point. With a soft sigh, Santana did her best to mentally ready herself for what was likely going to be yet another regret and perfect memory all rolled into one. But she doubted that would be possible. Once the gossips find out, then the school knows, and when the school knows… it's only so long before it goes right home. Still, she spoke, refusing to listen to reason as she dived head first into the unknown. "I guess… since you said you're not telling them and all…"

The light of hope lit in the blond's eyes, and every worry that she once held seemed to disappear. At least, momentarily. "You mean..?" The Latina nodded, soon finding herself trying to keep upright as the girl pounced her, hugging her with a fierceness that would have knocked the wind out of the most hardened of men. "Thank you thank you thank you, Santana!" The kiss the blond placed on her cheek was almost as potent as the kiss she had placed on the girl earlier, sending her into a whirlwind of emotions she both enjoyed and hated at the same instance. With candied lips beside the shorter girl's ears, the young woman nearly melted as the dancer she secretly adored whispered the three words that could put more confidence and wind in her sails than anything else ever could. "I love you."

Gently, with her hands moving to wrap themselves completely around the girl, the Latina quietly whispered back, "I love you too."

Something in Brittany's stature suddenly caused her shoulder's to fall, the excitement that had build within her failing as realization and reality seemed to cut in for the both of them. "I love Artie too," she whimpered into the Latina's neck, and Santana could almost hear a slight disdain for that singular fact alone, but every syllable was like a dagger to her soul. In that one phrase, the dark eyed and haired girl felt her confidence simmer out, the flames of her happiness in watered embers as those distasteful words she hated more than anything alive once more repeated in her mind. _'And I would totally be with you if it weren't for Artie.'_ If someone could get arrested to simply imagining all of the ways that would harm and maim (since killing would simply upset the blond far too much) the wheelchair bound boy, she would have been pulled away in cuffs long ago, when those excruciating words had been first thrown at her. Even if she knew with her entire being that the girl she loved returned her affections, she just couldn't share her lover with another person. Call it stubborn or selfish, she didn't care, but she just didn't want anyone else to ever know the joys of Brittany's body and soul. Especially with a certain cripple whom she couldn't help but wish that he was chained inside of a box marked bait heading for the closest Sea World.

Swallowing, she withdrew herself, crossing her arms in front of her person once again. This was too painful, his name was too hurtful, but she'd never let her see that, even if it felt like she had been sucker punched in the gut. "I know," she choked out, inhaling deeply so to keep her tears deep within her, not wanting a single one to prick her eye. She wanted to say more, say that there was a difference between loving someone and being with someone because they were the 'safe' option, tell her that loving someone and being _IN_ love with someone were two different things, but she couldn't. She couldn't dare look in to those pools of blue and only see disappointment again. She inhaled and exhaled heavily, her eyes closed, trying to clear her mind from all the feelings that had only got her hopes up just to snatch them away. It was the same thing she'd done every morning as she painted on her war face, readying for school and things she just didn't want to deal with. Opening her eyes once more, she offered the blond a colder smile than before, her eyes locking her emotions far from her features, and she buried down the ache that hit her like a brick the moment the blond had pursed her lips. "You said you wanted to sing?"

"San, don't." Brittany's voice was pleading, but the Latina's mask was already in place, and there was no moving it this time. Not for a while. Santana moved as quickly as she could to retreat from the other girl's arm length, retreating into the coldness of the corridors around her- a familiar feeling she'd been far too used to over the years. "San." Slim fingers reached out for the girl, a swiftness that nearly got what she wanted, but the caramel skinned girl was oddly slippery when she wanted to be. "Come on, San. Don't do this."

"Do what?" There was a venom in her words that she didn't mean, her school persona getting the better of her, but her emotions already felt all over the place, her heart in shambles as she tried to grasp what she should really be feeling as she stood there in front of the girl she loved right after being told she wasn't the only one. "You want to sing. I don't have to do anything." The blond lowered her head, hurt in her form as she fell into place, into that same little girl Santana had once held in the middle of the night as her parents fought loud enough for the neighborhood to hear. Her hands ached to do the same as she had then, but she denied herself from it, pushing down and away all the things of the past that crept up on her like ants during picnics.

The walk back to the choir room was silent and uncomfortable, Santana never letting her arms fall from around her and Brittany's eyes somehow glued to the floor, something every person in the classroom noticed. Quinn and Puck simply grimaced at the sight, realizing that maybe there was more than they could probably handle. Still, they separated at the door, the Latina moving to take her usual seat near the back of the classroom while Brittany remained up in the front, an unsaid heartache in her eyes as she stared at the floor. Two pairs of hazel eyes, along with several others, gave the shorter girl an inquisitive look, but she shrugged, turning to pick at her nails, deciding that they were more interesting than anyone else in the room. All heads turned to look at the blond in the front of the room, concerned, questioning, wondering just what had happened between the two close friends.

Finally, Brittany spoke, her voice soft and timid. "Mister Shue, can I go next?"

The older gentleman gave the tall dancer a smile, unsure and cautious yet caring and worried over both of his students. "I don't mind." An accusation of disapproval shot through the crowd, although most ended up ignoring the brown haired Barbara Streisand wannabe as she crossed her arms and pouted, muttering how it was rightfully her turn. No one really seemed to care, their attention directly at the blond who was whispering the title of the song to several of the band members.

The girl drew a shaky breath as she turned to the curious audience, her sapphire orbs resting unsurely on the caramel skinned beauty who seemed content pretending to be more interested in her hands than the situation that was going on, and Brittany wringed her wrists with her nervous hands, wondering if maybe this was the right thing to do. Maybe this was something that was going to destroy everything when all she wanted was to make sure no one was hurt, that no one had to cry at the end of the night.

In the end, she realized, she was the one who was the victim of her choices. In the end, she was going to hurt someone, maybe even everyone involved, because she couldn't avoid the one thing she wanted to avoid the most.

Biting her bottom lip, she waited, listening as the guitarist began to lightly pluck at the strings, a gentle flow of a song enveloping the room without another instrument to join in. The pale skinned girl watched her Latina, her heart breaking with each note the boy behind her played, wondering if the girl remembered that they had listened to this song over and over after watching the second Bridget Jones' Diary movie. In the other girl's posture stiffened only enough that her friend, her lover alone would probably notice, and no one else would likely have a clue. There was a sudden realization in the girl's brown eyes, pain filled feelings and heart felt words in them as ocean met earth for the first time since they'd entered the classroom.

"_Tonight you're mine completely, you give your love so sweetly_

_Tonight, the light of love is in your eyes, but will you still love me tomorrow?"_

The lyrics alone were enough to tell just how she felt about what was going on between them, silently and screaming at the same time, and the slight crack in her voice as she tenderly asked through the beginning of the song the words that failed her every time said more than she ever could. Too many times, she had wondered in the midnight hours, laying in the same bed with the girl whom she would love to love, if such a thing would last till the end of time, or would she simply run off, scared, afraid of the world and what they might say behind their backs. Would she have to pretend they were roommates once they moved away into a larger society, one that may or may not accept something like what they had? Would she had to lie to her family and friends until the end of time that the person she loved was only her 'best friend'? She couldn't keep doing it, couldn't keep denying the feelings she had for the woman just because she was afraid of what strangers would think or feel about them.

The addition of the soft swish of the drum heads, the gentle yet announced clack of a drumstick hitting the wooden block, and the soft beat of the bongo drums alerted her that the next chorus was beginning, and the blond tightened her hands against each other. She could feel the unsure gazes of the glee cast, especially of the boy who was supposed to be her boyfriend, watching her as if the answer to the unsaid question would be highlighted in bright, blinding lights above the girl's head. Swallowing, she kept her blue orbs upon the girl who was staring back, apologies in her eyes.

"_Is this a last treasure, or just a moment's pleasure?_

_Can I believe the magic of your sigh?_

_Will you still love me tomorrow?"_

Brittany bit the inside of her bottom lip as she waited the few milliseconds between verses, her hands unclasping as she felt her eyes begin to water. There were so many things she still wanted to tell her, so many things that she didn't know how to say, but, for now, she hoped this was enough. It had to be. Because Santana needed to know the reasons, needed to understand that she wasn't the only one hurting every moment she spent beside the man that was not the right skin shade, whose hand did not fit perfectly with hers, even though she desperately tried to tell herself it did.

"_Tonight with words unspoken, you said that I'm the only one_

_But will my heart be broken, when the night meets the morning sun?"_

So, as unfair as it was sometimes, she stayed with Artie. He was simple. He was honest. He never tried to hurt her, and he would be open with his friends and family about their relationship, about their ups and downs. Even if he wasn't the person she once saw herself living the rest of her days with, she was tired of waiting for the girl to make up her mind, to decide whether she was going to leave at sunrise every morning so to avoid the awkward glances of the Pierces', or stay in bed, and stay in the arms that so desperately wanted her to stay there. Wanting both options was more unfair to Brittany than trying to move on from the feelings that were both heaven and Hell to her, than staying with someone who cared for her, and wouldn't deny it in public.

But still, no matter how hard she tried, a sliver of hope remained that Santana would turn around one day, realize that a stranger's opinion didn't matter. This was the honesty that she was conveying with this song, and she prayed that the girl understood it.

"_I'd like to know that your love is love I can be sure of_

_So tell me now, cause I won't ask again_

_Will you still love me tomorrow?_

_Will you still love me tomorrow?"_

As the guitar plucked the final strings, lessening the sounds coming from it, the various other instruments following suit, Brittany swallowed, trying desperately to keep her head high as she tried to ignore the looks upon the others. A tear slowly cascaded down her cheek, gentle, foreboding, and the ache she felt within her chest seemed to double at the mere feeling of it as it gradually made it's way down. The classroom was silent, unsure what to do with such a song, unsure what sort of truth this meant that the girl was coming clean to the club with.

Finally, with a laugh everyone could hear was a tad bit forced, the bespectacled boy in the wheelchair urged his chair toward the girl, reaching up to take the blond's hand into his own. "Baby, you know I'll love you." He was trying, desperately hoping that he was not understanding this the way it was coming out, and that, despite the fact that the girl's eyes had never once left a certain spot in the room, that it was for him and no one else. His hand gripped hers a little tighter, a smile forced upon his lips, an unsaid hope in the air as the girl continued to stand unmoving, her feet firmly planted to the floor. Still, the room was mute, most eyes on the couple in the middle of the room. Both Quinn and Puck seemed to vary their gazes between both the girls, their cheeks taut as they grinded their teeth in hopes that this would end up better than it might.

No one seemed ready for the words that slipped through the ribbon lips of the beautiful blond standing front and center, least of all the Latina in the back row. "I'm in love with Santana Lopez."

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

_**Orokid**__: Just so everyone knows, the song and version that Brittany sung in the end was "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?", a song that was written back in the fifties or sixties for (I think) The Shirelles (an awesome oldies RnB group that people should listen to if you get the chance), and the version used, if anyone wants to YouTube it, is Amy Winehouse's because I think that it's the most heartfelt of them all. It was also released on the soundtrack I mentioned, which is Bridget Jones' Diary: The Edge Of Reason. I heard it while I was at work one day, trying to figure out how I want the chapter to go, and the second I heard it, I started singing along. It's my favorite version of this song. I swear!_

_Anyway… I know that Amy Winehouse is Santana's thing, but don't you think both she and Brittany probably have similar tastes in music since they have more or less grown up listening to the radio together? Even if San could probably do it justice, sing her little heart out and give meanings to the words that much more with her awesome voice, the words themselves, as well as the tempo of the song, mean a lot to a singer and how it's presented, and I thought that Brittany could handle it. It might not be the best rendition, but I know I would love it. I would probably cry like I did when Kurt sang "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" by The Beatles. Might just be me. _^_^

_Anyway… Hope you enjoyed. I would love to have your feedback, to see what you liked, what I should work on, etc. Thanks for reading, and I hope you keep enjoying my story._


	7. Run

_**Orokid**__: There's not much to say about this chapter, other than the fact that I wrote the entirety out while I was out on the west coast for vacation. I'm not sure if it turned out entirely like I had originally planned, but I still kinda like how it turned out. That aside… There's part of this chapter that a part of me would prefer to have written over, but I don't think that I could write it better. I'm two minds about it. Still… I like how this is going, so far._

_**Disclaimer**__: I own nothing. Especially if it's Glee or any of the characters from said show. Those belong to Ryan Murphy and company._

_ENJOY THE STORY!_

**Chapter Seven**

_Run_**  
**

"_**I'm in love with Santana Lopez."**_

The words were on repeat, echoing in the Latina's mind with a fury not unlike a level five hurricane, and she could only swear that her heart had to have stopped beating then and there. The world seemed to have stopped, her classmates still, almost like they were posing for a photo. All eyes were upon the blond and blue eyed goddess of a woman who stood center stage, waiting anxiously for a reaction from someone, anyone, an uneasy smile painted across her porcelain like features. Ocean met earth, begging and pleading for something the caramel skinned beauty wasn't sure of. The seated girl let out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, noticing for the first time in that moment that her hands were shaking, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt she'd been wearing.

"_**I'm in love with Santana Lopez."**_

The Latina swallowed the lump forming in her throat, finding it particularly hard to gulp it down this time, her entire body still as her thoughts ran rampant. _'OhmyGod, she seriously said that. OhmyGod, what is everyone gonna think? OhmyGod, she swore to me that she wasn't going to say shit like that to them. OhmyGod ohmyGod ohmyGod…'_

"_**I'm in love with Santana Lopez."**_

It was strange and scary to watch as nearly everyone's eyes had slowly and unsurely turned to look at her, who had, for some reason, seated herself on the top row in the center this day. Most were surprised, unable to process the given information further than it coming out from the blond's lips, but she could feel the few concerned gazes of those who seemed to actually care about her feelings rather than what sort of reaction she'd give and what kind of juicy gossip this would be. She could feel her fear grip her, harder than it ever had before, and with a quickness she hadn't realized she'd ever had, her backpack was filled with her belongings and the straps were over her shoulders. Silently, under the watchful gazes of the people whom she once thought were her friends, she attempted to walk out of the room, pride and confidence in her every step- yet the second she reached the doorway, her legs took a life of their own, running as fast as she could manage down the halls.

Immediately upon the girl's absence, the group began to talk, began to gossip, wondering and speculating as to why the blond had said what she had and why the head bitch of McKinley hadn't either laughed it off or said something that would diffuse the situation somehow. No, she had run, leaving many a glee member curious. A duo of hazel eyes locked with one another, and, as Mister Shuester attempted to quiet the conversations building around him, they reached an unsaid agreement. Puck rose from his seat, jogging quickly toward the hall, easily spotting the haphazardly tossed shoes not too far away. Quinn stood from her's, carefully approaching the other blond who had yet to move, remaining in her place as shock and sadness washed over her. The prom queen wannabe stood, opening her arms to the girl who had once been her close friend, offering a place for her to fall into- a hug in which Brittany accepted, tears finally beginning to fall as she realized just what had happened. Carefully, they moved out into the empty hallway, excusing themselves with a meaningful gaze by the lithe and beautiful queen toward Mister Shuester's location.

Artie simply watched, lost, unsure, his heart falling to pieces as he realized that he had been fighting against the possibility of the girls probably since he and Brittany had gotten together.

The rest of the glee club seemed to jet along, although with the absence of four members, it ended up with more performances in which were supposed to go along with the theme. Still, for the wheelchair bound boy, it had gone by incredibly fast, his attention on the empty seat beside him, hopeful to gather his thoughts about everything that was going on. Even as Rachel took the stage, offering the club a rousing number based off a number from a Broadway show in which he'd never heard of or didn't care about, he remained, preoccupied in a sea of others who were clapping along to the beat. His heart and mind was far from the club, from the activities around him, and he barely took notice when their director had finally dismissed them. It was only when Sam had taken hold of the wheelchair's handlebars, wheeling him out of the choir room, that he had figured out that the club had come to an end.

"So…" the blond haired male attempted, not quite sure what to say in a moment like this one. Artie felt the male tap on the handles, an awkward sigh escaping his lips as the boy desperately tried to think of something to say, coming up with next to nothing with each step they took. "Britt and Satan…" Even if he hadn't meant to, the bespectacled boy flinched at her name, although a part of him wasn't sure which 'her' had caused him to do so. Sam forced a smile, somehow knowing in his heart how this had to feel, cast aside by the girl he loved. The only thing that made the situation much worse was that the 'other guy' happened to be a chick.

It was then and there that the blond haired and blue eyed male figured out just why Santana had dumped him, only to sing that song about unrequited love moments later. Bitterness simmered within him, feeling as his pride took the blow. For some reason, it felt worse than when Quinn had ditched him for Finn.

"We're in the same boat, you know." Sam tried to give the boy a smile, hopeful to cheer up the despondent male from the obvious sadness he must feel, although he realized moments later how stupid he must be since they were facing the same direction. Still, the words earned him a grunt in response which held neither disbelief or much of anything other than sadness. "I mean… I knew there was someone else and all, but… I dunno. Always thought it was a dude." Silence reigned between the two men, and the large lipped male wished he could say something to cheer his friend up. "Y'know… I know that you love Brittany, man…" he started, searching for the right way to word what he was going to say to him, "… but think about it. She was being honest, but she hasn't broken up with you. That has to mean _something_, right?"

Artie's hands moved to the wheels on his chair, slowly edging it to a stop, and the football player took that as a sign to do the same. Without looking up, his eyes centered upon the two blonds talking quietly to one another at the end of the long hall, he only asked, "Can you help me perform something tomorrow?"

_**xxxxxxxxx**_

Quinn had begun listening to the young dancer talk about everything she'd known but never heard about, trying as hard as she could to keep her mind open and judgment free as the girl confided in her for the first time in years. Although she'd never admit it aloud, she missed her friends, missed talking to them on a regular basis, missed laughing together at three in the morning during an innocent sleepover- unlike the ones she'd heard that her friends had shared. While a part of her balked at some of the things she was hearing, her love for God and the good book not far from her mind, she nodded to tell the girl to continue, her heart bleeding for both of her former comrades as she did her best to understand. After all, she knew them, she cared for them probably more than anyone else at the school, and just because the preacher said to disapprove, she couldn't. Rubbing the crystal orbed girl's back, hopeful to ease the tears that were falling from her eyes, Quinn took in her words, simply grateful that the blond had only skimmed the details on the more 'personal' affects of her and Santana's relationship… not that anyone in the entire glee club didn't know or fantasize about the idea of the two girls together. But the second when feelings became involved, when sweet and lovable Brittany announced that she cared for her Hispanic companion much more than just a fun and flirty friend, it became different. Tainted even.

"I just don't know what to do." The desperation and need for answers to unsaid questions was easily heard, and the hazel eyed blond offered her a kind and endearing smile. As much as she wished she knew of a way, of a reason, and that her smile was as infectious as the girl's in front of her, she knew the truth. She had no answers, and the frown and the tears in the girl's eyes remained. Placing a gentle and caring hand upon Brittany's shoulder, Quinn once again gave the girl a smile, doubling her efforts in hopes that it'd work. "What should I do? What if she never want to see me again? What if I screwed everything up because she's not ready to tell them that she's Lebanese?"

"She's Hispanic, B." Confusion laced the former head cheerleader's voice, and the tall dancer could only look at the other girl like she was the most idiotic person she'd ever known- a gaze the proud teenager didn't feel comfortable being under. "Look, whatever." Waving her hand absentmindedly around, she brushed the subject away, deciding that there were other better things to waste time arguing over. "That doesn't matter. What does… is that we need to plan." A twinkle showed in her beautiful hazel eyes, something that seemed to cause a glimmer of hope within the other girl as she sniffed quietly, rubbing her crystals free from the tears falling from them. "I think I had an idea."

_**Xxxxxxxxx**_

Puck had probably been searching the general direction she had run for about thirty minutes, and every time he felt like he was close to locating her, she was still nowhere to be found. He was frustrated, beyond so really, although the time gave him enough to figure out (more or less) what he'd like to tell her. The longer it took though, the more expletives he seemed to be adding. Just about ready to give up, he spotted in the distance out on the wooden seats near the practice field a figure with dark hair and eluding to her once dominate attitude. He marched passed the jumping and lithe bodies of several young women he'd yet to make the acquaintance of, too angry with the person he was making his way toward to fully take in the sight of the cheerleaders as they desperately tried to make their screaming coach appeased- something they had yet to find out was impossible. He climbed with ease to the top, seating himself down haphazardly beside the girl that had yet to move. With a grunt, he pushed toward her the heels she'd left behind, which she gingerly took from him, never once turning her gaze. They sat, silent, the words he had once wanted to say now lost from him.

"I miss feeling like I ruled this school."

The male's attention remained forward, but he nodded in response, understanding partially that, while things had happened that caused her to step down and away from the squad, she missed it. Maybe not the Hitler like exercises, definitely not being called various names by the coach, but there had been power in the position- a power she was obviously feeling like she had lost without that dreaded uniform she had once worn.

Still, Puck could only roll his eyes at the very thought that the girl beside him had gone soft after all this time. "You still can." He watched from the corner of his eye as her posture changed, curling into herself just a little, but enough to see her self-consciousness. It only seemed to spur him on, and his prior irritation returned to him. "Jesus… Where's all that badassery that made you hot?" The Latina turned to him, her gaze lethal, and a smile couldn't help but form on his lips. One of the things that everyone and no one seemed to realize was just how much pride she put into being the sexy, untouchable one- even when she was pulling crap like what she was doing. "You know… You can't keep running away from everything."

"I can if I try." Her soft mutter made him want to laugh, although he felt a tinge of sadness over her simple statement, and it seemed to crawl mercilessly into his heart. She never wanted to accept herself, no matter all the big talk she made about her feelings for her blond friend. Shaking his head, he moved to get up, only to be stopped by a hand on his forearm. "Where are you going?"

"To find a hot lesbian to be her lesbro, 'cause you don't have the balls to do the one thing that'll make you happy." His tone was much harder than he had wanted it to be, his frustrations with the situation getting the better of him. Still, he wasn't about to back down after what he'd just started, seeing the fear and apprehension grip her. "You're always throwing yourself around, giving a shit about what people would think if you decide to be true to yourself for the first frickin' time I've known you. You didn't care when people called you a whore. You didn't give a flying fuck when people started saying shit when you got your implants. Why the fuck do you care now what a bunch of idiots and douches that will never leave this town say?" The male heaved a heavy and angry sigh, but as she sat there, staring into the emptying fields of what used to be, he knew that he had at least gotten her attention. She was listening. "Don't end up a Lima loser like the rest of 'em, San, 'cause you're better than them. You're better than throwing yourself at some guy, better than getting married to a man you don't love, better than having little midgets who will only wonder where mommy goes with her 'best friend' every weekend." His tone had grown kinder the more he spoke, his worry for her future and her well-being apparent. Brown eyes studied him, unsure what to say after everything he'd just said. As much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn't, knowing within her heart that he was right. That was the path she was going down with each and every passing day, denying herself.

A blip of a ringtone sounded, alerting both of them, and the mohawked male reached into his pocket, gathering the offending device into his hand. With a grumble and a few choice words she barely caught, he pressed a few buttons, turning his gaze toward the beautiful Latina beside him. Shoving his phone back where he had taken it, his lips caught somewhere between a smile and a grimace. "Finn just texted me."

"What does Frankenteen want?" Her tone was bitter, although he could hear a soft and barely noticeable interest despite it all.

"Shue gave us another assignment for the week." The Latina raised an eyebrow, asking without opening her mouth just what that meant to her. "Something about the present and future, where you see yourself, some shit like that." He shrugged, unsure what else there was to say about the message, and he knew that he'd have to call someone else later for a better interpretation. Although she knew the details weren't very specific, she had a sinking feeling in her gut that she knew all too well what this assignment meant.

Silence reigned between the two friends, curious just what to say after everything that had passed between them, stuck both in the past and present as they tried to feel out the walls of the new noun they were calling themselves. The Latina felt herself bite unsurely on the inside of her bottom lip, and Puck ran a hand absentmindedly through his Mohawk. Their eyes watched as the squad finished packing up their things, although their minds were far from this place, this school- perhaps even the world. With a heavy sigh, the male turned his hazel orbs toward the frightened yet passive girl beside him, knowing all too well that she had escaped into her thoughts in hopes that they would finally make sense. "You know… I want you to be happy."

"I know." Her words were quiet yet sincere, and he watched as a soft breeze tussled her silk-like hair. "Thank you." The taller boy turned to look at her, astonished to hear the one phrase that had to taste like vinegar in her mouth. In all the years he'd ever known her, those words were few and far between, and the fact that she had said it at all had to mean one thing- she meant them wholly and entirely. If the moment hadn't been so tense and unsure, let alone surprising, he would have teased her mercilessly because, after all, that was part of the job duties of a lesbro.

Biting back the snaky comment that desperately wanted to come out, the muscular football player wrapped an arm caringly around her shoulders- nothing perverted or dishonest, just an offer of support that the stubborn girl leaned into, accepting it. The mohawked male could only grin at the sight and feeling of her leaning how to completely trust him. "So… Can I get in on your song committee?" She turned her brown eyes toward him, surprised to know that he knew she had sought help and also that he wished to join in on the festivities of making her feel like a complete idiot in public. Still, she simply raised an eyebrow at him instead of verbalizing her curiosity over it all. "Finn mentioned you were hanging out with the wonder-gays. There's only two reasons you would do that: one, to have your Yodas show you the ways of the gay-" The Latina quirked a smile, punching the boy playfully in his arm, holding back the small chuckle that was threatening to spill out and over the best that she could. "- or, two, you didn't feel comfortable choosing a solo piece for the assignment on your own cause you'd end up chickening out."

"Shush," the girl barked softly, although it was obvious that she was trying to ignore and push away the smile upon her lips. "When did you find the time to get to know me?"

"I have my ways." This time, she slapped his arm, as if the minor violence would cause him to open up to his secrets. Still, the football player kept his lips shut, a proud grin on his face, simply pulling the beauty beside him into a one armed hug. Finally, as they attempted to wrestle for dominance, her failing to push herself away considering his strength compared to her own, Santana let out a loud and cheerful laugh.

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

_**Orokid:**__ Sooooo… Just want to say thanks for everything, from your reviews and you yourself for reading my story. If you have anything to say about the story, I welcome it with open ears. I realize that this is shorter than my usual, but ce la vie. I'll try and add more possibly to the next chapter to make up for it. Otherwise… If you have ideas, songs that Santana should sing and whatnot, I'm all ears for that too. _X3


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